A Wizard Disguised in Muggle Clothes
by Potionmaker
Summary: Post Hogwarts, AU. NOT DH compliant. Draco is a famous model in the Wizarding world. He thinks he's gotten over his crush on Ron, but when Ron joins the modeling industry, he starts to have some problems. RD Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
Warning: Ron/Draco slash, Post-Hogwarts, AU  
A/N: I'd like to thank Tara for her wonderful beta work.

I don't know anything about the fashion industry, and most of the things I'm writing about modeling is based on my imagination.

---

Two years after Voldemort's defeat, the Wizarding world was beginning to get back to normal, and Draco Malfoy's face started to appear frequently in magazines, tabloids, or in adverts. Owing to his distinguished appearance and self-confidence, he was making his name as a male fashion model known not only in UK, but in other European countries as well.

His schedule was always full to the brim, but he was rather content with it. The busier, the less time he had to think about absurd things. Like his lost crush. But even if he did have the time to think about it, he didn't consider it anything serious. He believed that concerning Ron Weasley, he had had just the tiniest of crushes and that anything he'd felt for the redhead had vanished the moment he graduated Hogwarts. So when he did let himself think about this former classmate of his, he believed it was more like musing over the good old school days than mourning over lost love.

However, seeing Ron Weasley standing in the middle of his model agency's office in front of the agency's staff was a completely different story.

Draco had come to this office in the corner of Diagon Alley today to arrange his schedule with his agent and manager, Blaise Zabini. When he opened the front door, he, Draco Malfoy, Britain's male supermodel, stupidly opened his mouth in shock at what he had seen.

There in the entrance hall in front of the reception desk stood Ron Weasley, merely four or five feet away from Draco, listening to the staff's instructions with some paperwork in his hands. Ron responded to the opening of the door and gave a sideways glance in Draco's direction. When he recognized who was standing there, his eyes grew a bit wide, but he quickly turned back to the staff as if nothing had happened. Draco was somewhat annoyed with Ron's lack of reaction, but the redhead seemed determined to direct his attention towards the staff.

It had been almost two years since Draco last saw the redhead. The former Gryffindor hadn't changed much, looking poor as poor could be, from his hideous torn sneakers to his ripped jeans and washed out T-shirt, but otherwise looking quite gorgeous with his vibrant blue eyes and flaming red hair pushed back casually.

Until Blaise Zabini came out of his private office to beckon Draco inside, he couldn't quite register what was going on and just stood there staring at the redhead dubiously. Inwardly, he couldn't help himself from checking and feeling relieved to find that there on top of Ron's nose still remained the freckles which resembled the star chart Draco had drawn in his Astronomy class back in his fifth year.

As soon as he entered Blaise's office and shut the door, he immediately turned to his agent to have his imminent question answered.

"What was that?" he spat out.

"That? You mean Ron Weasley? You do remember him, don't you?"

"What is he doing here? This isn't a place someone like him should be entering casually," said Draco with an annoyed look on his face, simply ignoring Blaise's question, and roughly pulling the chair in front of Blaise's desk to get himself seated.

Blaise seemed to be a little taken back with the fuss Draco was making, but answered placidly, "I found him yesterday outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. He was staring at the 'Lightning 2009' in the show case with his mouth half open. Oh, you do know the 'Lightning 2009", the new broomstick named after Potter's stupid scar?"

"Yes, I know, Blaise," said Draco irritably, and I don't care, he added to himself.

"Anyway, he seemed to have nothing better to do in the middle of a weekday, so I scouted him."

"Scouted _Weasley_? Are you off your rocker, Blaise? Are we talking about the same bloke here? That Weasley? With freckles and red hair? A model?"

Now Draco was leaning forward in his chair towards Blaise.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's the one I'm talking about."

Then Blaise smiled wryly as if he just remembered something.

"What do you think that git said when I asked him if he was interested in modeling?"

Draco didn't answer but just quirked an eyebrow to urge Blaise to continue.

"He said, 'aren't modeling what queers like to do?' Can you believe that?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, but Draco was more than disgruntled. How dare Weasley, of all people, insult his occupation like that.

"Anyway, he looked at me as if I was some fraud, but when I told him he'd make tons of Galleons if he did well, he was suddenly all keen on the whole thing. Haven't changed a bit, that bloke."

Draco snorted.

"I don't really care how attached he is to money. What bothers me is that you actually think he'll qualify as a model."

"Of course I do. I wouldn't have scouted him if I didn't. We've been always short of good-looking redheads. He's tall, he's got long legs, blue eyes, and you can't deny he's become quite a looker over the years. Even those hideous freckles seem to add some charm to him."

Draco pursed his lips. Of course he knew all this. He didn't need Blaise to explain this for him. The problem was that he simply didn't like the idea of Ron modeling. Once Weasley came back into Draco's life, he wasn't sure if he could ignore him, or ignore his own feelings that he'd managed to seal so well for these past couple of years.

"So which show will he be in?" Draco asked, now leaning back in his seat.

"A show? Are you joking? You can't expect him to be in a show this soon. He doesn't even know how to walk, and you know how he gets all messed up in front of a crowd."

Draco surely remembered it all too well.

"What are you planning for him, then?"

"Well, I'm thinking about magazine shootings for a start," said Blaise.

"Magazines? NO magazine shootings."

Draco had to swallow the line that photo shootings for magazines sometimes involved working with other male or female models in close proximity. He didn't fancy the image of Ron posing and flirting with other models in front of or behind the camera.

Blaised looked at Draco questioningly. "Why's that?"

"Because I say so."

"Look, Draco, there's nothing you should worry about. He's no match for you. No matter hard he tries, he'll be nowhere near as good as you," Blaise said convincingly, with a bit of enthusiasm in his voice. Apparently, he seemed to have misinterpreted Draco's concerns. Did Blaise seriously think that Draco would consider Weasley as his future rival?

"I know, Blaise," drawled Draco.

"Good, then. Weasley's first job will be some shooting for the Quibbler."

"_The Quibbler?_ Didn't they ask me a couple of weeks ago to model in some ludicrous article for Muggle clothes or something?"

"Quite right. 'A Wizard Disguised in Muggle Clothes' was the article title. And you declined that offer right off the top of your head," said Blaise, shotting an accusatory look at Draco.

"You know I'm too good for advertising Muggle clothes."

"Well, they still hadn't found a model for that one, and I thought Weasley would be a fit."

"I didn't know the Quibbler had anything to do with fashion," said Draco, now playing with the hem of his sleeve in a bored gesture as if to show he wasn't really interested in this topic any more.

"Well, it's _Muggle_ fashion they're interested in. They told me they're planning a three-edition feature, and they were looking for a model who could work for all three of them. I mean, _Muggle_ clothes? Who else can you think of?"

Draco gave a low grunt and sank low in his seat. Blaise certainly did have a point, but at the moment, Draco felt like cursing him for bringing Ron into this business, and back into his life.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
Beta: As always, a huge thanks to my beta, Tara.

A/N: I'd like to give a big thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter. Sorry for taking long to update. I'm a slow writer, so I won't be able to update that often, but your reviews are really encouraging. As for my other fic, "Closing My Mind," I missed the opportunity to thank everyone who reviewed my last chapter, so I want to say thank you here. I'm not sure if I'm going to write a sequel, but thanks for asking.

---

Draco Malfoy was not in a very happy mood. Why the first photo shoot for the Quibbler had to take place in a Muggle countryside and not in a studio, he did not know. He'd heard from Blaise the other day that the Quibbler's staff knew a Muggle owned ranch whose inhabitants would be out on a trip during the weekend. They were going to use that opportunity for the photo shoot. Choosing a place like that of all places really made Draco's opinion on the Quibbler drop even lower.

Truth be told, it wasn't like Draco needed to be there. It wasn't his photo shoot after all. It was just that he happened to have a day off today, and he considered it his duty to make sure that the new scouted model was worth the investment his model agency was making. He thought that he was that much devoted to his agency, and he was certain it had nothing to do with a certain redheaded model. Yes, this was all for the sake of his agency.

When Draco had Apparated at some distance from the back yard of the ranch house a couple of minutes ago, he could spot only a few people from where he stood, including a man who appeared to be a photographer. The model himself was nowhere to be seen but probably inside the house, Draco assumed, since clicking sounds and voices could be heard from there.

Since then, another fifteen minutes had passed, but there was still not a hint of Ron Weasley coming out of the door. Draco was growing more irritable with each passing second. He was already spending twenty minutes of his precious time wandering around the house with his arms crossed, doing nothing in particular.

As he continued to walk around, his eyes met those of a familiar looking guy standing near the front door, who had just looked up from his planner. It was the agency's staff who'd been talking to Ron in the office last week. The guy -what was his name?- raised his hand at Draco and came over to him.

Draco had disguised himself today to free himself from the prying eyes of others, changing his hair color from blond to brown and wearing sunglasses, but the guy seemed to have noticed at once that it was him. Draco was somewhat annoyed, but thought it over. Who could blame him. It must be extremely difficult not to recognize his outstanding looks.

"Mr. Malfoy, I heard you turned down this offer," said the staff.

"I did. Where's Weasley? Wimped out already?"

"Oh, he's getting ready inside. He should be back in a few minutes. But Mr. Malfoy, what-"

"What are you doing here, anyway? Can't Weasley take care of himself?"

"I was about to leave, actually. I have to make several urgent Floo-calls to my clients today, but Mr. Zabini wanted me to make sure he showed up, since it's his first photo shoot and all. Well, he did, so I might as well be leaving, and Mr. Malfoy-,"

"You'd better hurry, then. Those clients blow up easily if they don't get their replies on time," Draco cut in, so he won't have to hear the assumably nosy question.

"Right. Good day to you then, sir."

The guy still had an unsatisfying look on his face, but Disapparated with a pop. Almost as soon as he left, the door of the ranch house creaked open, and out came Ron, making heavy footsteps down the wooden porch as he walked.

Draco almost let out a gasp. Ron was wearing a pair of ripped blue jeans, a white shirt buttoned down to the third button exposing his collarbone and a necklace of black leather string holding a bright blue turquoise stone. Draco could now make out that it was the dark brown leather boots Ron was wearing that was causing the big footfalls. On top of Ron's head was a ten-gallon hat, and Merlin, did it look good on him. Draco wasn't going to admit it in Ron's face, though.

Ron came down the steps of the porch and paused abruptly in front of Draco. He looked at him unbelievingly.

"_Malfoy?_"

"_Weasley_," drawled back Draco.

"Malfoy, what are _you_ doing here?"

"Making sure that you being your clumsy self don't make any blunder and bring disgrace on our agency, Weasel."

Ron scowled.

"I thought Zabini told me you had a full schedule. Apparently not, then."

Draco decided to ignore that comment and instead squinted his eyes at the blue stone contacting pale skin beneath Ron's shirt.

"Weasley, what happened to you? You not only look like a _real_ Muggle, but a cowboy who'd been ripped his trousers by his horse."

"Glad to hear that. I'm supposed to look that way."

Draco managed to include 'Muggle' and 'cowboy' which were supposed to be two insulting words in the same sentence, but was lightly disappointed that it didn't seem to annoy the redhead as he'd expected it would. _What a shameless Muggle-lover._

They glared at each other until Ron was called over by a Quibbler staff. As he walked past Draco, he turned his head and gave him one more vicious look. He then quickly faced back forward and walked away before Draco could even glare back.

The photo shoot first took place in the meadow spreading out before the ranch house. Ron stood in front of the camera in the dense green grass, while the other staffs stood not so far behind the photographer. Draco remained alone on the front porch, which was not too far to have a full view of what was going on.

As soon as the photographer started to adjust his lens, Ron started making awkward poses on his own. He first tucked his hands in his pockets, then took them out and placed a hand on his hip, and then quickly moved it to the brim of his ten-gallon hat, all the while with a nervous grin glued to his face.

Draco chewed his bottom lip to avoid laughing out loud, but couldn't help his shoulders from shaking. Other suppressed giggles heard from ahead were not helping.

The photographer lifted his head from the camera and said with a hint of amusement in his voice, "You're leaving us all behind, Ron. Can you give me a few more minutes so I can get these bloody lens ready? This is a Muggle camera we're using today, and it's causing me an awful lot of trouble."

Ron turned bright red, pulling his hat over his eyes and turning his head down as if he became suddenly interested in his boots. Draco wanted to snatch that hat away, just to make him more uncomfortable.

Shortly afterwards, the photographer got all set to start the actual shooting. When Ron was asked to look at the camera, he did so with a wide grin showing a fair amount of teeth. The photographer looked up from his camera.

"Urm, Ron? I hate to break your good mood, but you can save your smile until I ask," he said, and there was a loud burst of laughter. Everybody, including Draco, couldn't hold it this time.

Needless to say, Ron turned bright crimson. It took a while for his blush to subside, but when it finally did, he looked stiff and rigid as if he'd been semi-Petrified. He couldn't move as he was told to, and he showed no signs of improvement. It was obvious the photo shoot wasn't going well, and the congenial atmosphere that first existed gradually faded, bringing an awkward mood in its place. The photographer decided to take a break for Ron to change his outfit, but probably with the hope of changing the air.

Draco could see Ron come walking towards the ranch house in his direction. He was now looking pale instead of red, and Draco expected at least to catch his eyes, but Ron just walked past him without a single word nor a glance. Draco shifted uncomfortably while leaning against the banister. Most of him was thinking that it all served him right, that he should know modeling was no easy task, but a small part of him felt a lump in his throat that he couldn't quite make out.

Ten minutes later, Ron came out of the door wearing a jean jacket over a plain white T-shirt. He still looked dispirited, but this time looked at Draco as if he noticed him standing there for the first time. When Draco arched an eyebrow at him, he said "What?" in an irritable tone, but Ron's attention was soon drawn over to the meadow. Draco followed Ron's gaze to find a Quibbler staff bringing a black horse out of the stable. It appeared Ron's working mate for the day was a Muggle critter, a handsome one though.

Next moment, Ron was back in front of the camera with the horse. He first looked up at the animal, tentatively reaching out a hand. Finding that it didn't withdraw, he stroke the back of its neck gently.

Tension released, Ron started acting more like himself, relaxed even. It seemed he was almost unconscious of the camera, or even seemed to forget the presence of it, and that was when the photographer started clicking the shutter feverishly. _So he's talented in mingling with Muggle animals. What a Weasley-ish trait, really._

"Don't you think Ronald's perfect for this job?"

Draco almost jumped up at the sudden voice coming from his left. He turned his head to face a girl with dirty blonde hair and with earrings the shape of something that looked strangely similar to eggplants dangling from her ears.

"You! Where did you come from?"

"Oh, I've been around. Maybe you've been too absorbed in watching Ronald to notice."

Draco instantly felt his cheeks burn and tried to deny what she'd just said, but when he looked at Luna Lovegood, she didn't have a teasing look on her face. In fact, she wasn't looking at him at all, but at Ron. It felt pointless to retort, so Draco simply asked instead, "Lovegood, what are you doing here?"

"If you didn't know, my father runs the Quibbler, and I've been helping him ever since I graduated Hogwarts," said Luna with an air of pride.

"Good for you," said Draco sarcastically.

Draco never had a liking for the magazine, especially since they published that abominable interview with Potter several years ago. He thought they should stick to covering enigmatic creatures or fabrication and keep pleasing their crackpot readers.

Luna didn't seem to pick the note of cynicism in Draco's voice, or decided not to notice. She looked at Draco and said, "And you, Malfoy? What are you doing here? I believe you declined our offer, or are you having second thoughts?"

"Of course not. I just stopped by on my way to...work."

"Your way to work," repeated Luna, without blinking her protuberant eyes.

Luna then looked around the place with mystified eyes. When she returned her gaze to Draco, he shrugged in a slight flurry and said, "I should get going. I really have better things to do than watch amateur Weasel-shooting."

"See you around, then." Luna smiled at him. To Draco's relief, she didn't ask further. _Good thing she was a dork._

Draco backed away nonchalantly behind the pillar of the porch. When he turned his face back to Ron, the black horse was no longer there, and Ron had his hat in his hand, letting the autumn breeze ruffle his hair. Dusk was slowly starting to set in, almost drowning Ron in a sea of orange. It was a rather enchanting sight, and Draco just stood there not able to tear his eyes away until their eyes met.

Ron raised his eyebrow in a questioningly way, and Draco instantly came to himself with a start. He could feel heat rising up his neck. He'd been practically caught gazing raptly at the redhead. Perhaps to cover his embarrassment, Draco quickly made a rude hand gesture towards him. Seeing that, Ron immediately scowled in rage, giving him _his_ middle finger in return.

The photographer who stood inbetween made a stricken face with mocking exaggeration and said, "Oh Ron, I know we're running kind of late and all, but right when I thought we were becoming a team."

Ron blushed and said quickly, "No, I'm sor-, I didn't mean-, that was meant for Malfoy."

"Malfoy? You mean Draco Malfoy? What are you talking about? He's not here, is he?"

There was a buzz and the photographer as well as the other staffs except for Luna started looking wildly around. Draco quickly turned his back to them and the next moment, he Disapparated. He'd seen enough of the photo shoot, and Ron's partner today was a single horse. There wasn't anything to worry about save the slightest jealousy that had been stirring inside of him towards the stallion.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
Beta: Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Tara.

A Big thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the previous chapters.

----

Draco Malfoy was rather a night person. So it was quite unnatural for him to get up at least three hours earlier than usual this morning.

Today was the issue date of the Quibbler; the one including the first feature with Ron Weasley. Draco hadn't written in his planner or anything, but in his mental calendar, there was a big circle on the day and he'd been crossing off the days every day in his head. It was not that he was looking forward to it. He was just curious, he reminded to himself, but actually so curious how the article turned out that the wait was starting to kill him.

So today, he came to Diagon Alley to get himself a copy. He hadn't subscribed to the Quibbler's owl-mail service, since he didn't intend to continue reading the magazine. He didn't fancy the idea of being found that someone like him would subscribe to such a foul reading.

After he bought a copy at a newsstand from an old wizard who looked unrelated to anything to do with fashion, he noticed he hadn't even had his morning coffee yet. He chose to enter a shabby looking cafe with just a few elderly customers. Draco was wearing his dark brown leather cap today to obscure his eyes and white blond hair, but none of them seemed likely to recognize him anyway. Besides, the loners were all absorbed in their morning papers.

After ordering his coffee, Draco took out his copy of the Quibbler which had been curled in his palm and unfolded it on the edge of the table. On the front cover was an illustration of what looked like a combination of a Puffskein and a Kneazle, which didn't attract Draco's attention at all.

Draco ruffled through the pages until he got to the middle, where there was the article he was looking for.

_'A Wizard Disguised in Muggle Clothes -a day in the Muggle countryside'  
_  
He suddenly felt butterflies in his stomach, but continued flipping the pages. It was in total a five-page article, with different shots of Ron Weasley here and there. The pictures were Muggle pictures, all the Rons in there immobile.

Draco went back to the front page of the feature to start over. In the first page was Ron striding across the meadow with his hands tucked in his pockets, with just his face facing the camera. The cowboy hat was lightly shading his eyes and hair, creating a gradation of color. The second page had Ron rubbing the black horse's neck, while resting his own head on its back. In the third page was Ron looking at the orange sky at sunset, his hair ruffled by the wind.

The next picture had probably been taken after Draco had left. Ron, in a shirt and pants Draco hadn't seen, was sitting on the porch banister of the ranch house with a mug of beer in his hand. The last two pictures were taken inside the house; one in the kitchen and one in front of the fireplace with a a small terrier by his side. At the bottom of each page were information of shop names Draco had never heard of, and prices of clothes in 'pounds' and 'pence'.

Staring at the last page, Draco hadn't realized he hadn't made any kind of movement for a while. His throat was all dry. It was probably the effect of the stillness of the pictures that made Weasley look, well, decent, he thought to himself. Plus beginner's luck. Plus plus the clothes Weasley was wearing were of Muggle origin, just perfect for true Muggle-lovers.

"Quite a hottie, isn't he?"

A female voice came from behind, and Draco turned his head around swiftly. It was the waitress, peeping at the Quibbler over Draco's shoulder.

She quirked an eyebrow and said, "Isn't it strange that these pictures aren't moving, though?"

Draco said nothing, but shut the magazine with a snap, and gave her a murderous look.

"Oh, I brought your coffee, sir. Here you go," she said hastily, placing the cup in front of Draco and trotting away.

Draco let out a sigh and sipped the coffee which immediately caused him to choke. It was nothing like he had ever drunk before. It tasted foul, like mud diluted with water, not that he knew what mud tasted like. _Price does equal quality_, he thought assuredly.

When Draco lifted his face from the table, something outside the window caught in the corner of his eyes. It was Blaise Zabini standing in the street, just a few feet away from the cafe window. He'd been probably trying to catch Draco's eyes, because he instantly made a smile and pointed at the shop's door which was supposed to be mean he was coming inside.

Draco went rigid and felt blood drain from his face. What if Blaise saw what Draco'd been intently starting at? No, that wasn't possible. Only the upper half of the customers should be visible from outside the not so big windows with wide frames.

Quickly recovering from the initial shock, Draco closed the magazine and slid it under his buttocks just in time to face Blaise walking towards him. But it was nothing to be embarrassed about, thought Draco, as he uncrossed his leg. He was just checking how _one of his colleagues_ were doing.

"Draco! Hadn't expected to see you here, especially at this time in the morning. You come here often?" said Blaise, as he pulled out a chair and seated himself across from Draco. He glanced around the cafe with a not so impressed look on his face. Draco lifted his cup and brought it to his lips.

"Did you know that sometimes the most unlikely places serve the best coffee? I come here once in a while to relish this rich roasted flavor to start the day," said Draco matter-of-factly, before sipping his drink with a 'Mmmm'.

"Never expected that for a place like this. Maybe I should try myself."

Blaise lifted his hand to call over the waitress, but Draco quickly interrupted, making a regretful face. "Sorry, Blaise, but I have to leave now." He quickly took out a Galleon from his wallet and placed it on the table.

"You do? Without even finishing your coffee?" Blaise seemed to be a bit taken aback by Draco's sudden leave.

"I've a lot to do today. Besides, don't you have an office to open in five minutes?"

"Of course," said Blaise somewhat sluggishly, but half rising from his seat all the same. Draco followed suit and got up. Once the front cover of the Quibbler was revealed, he sat back again in a flurry. Fortunately, Blaise was looking at his watch and hadn't seem to notice. Draco felt his heart beat faster, but casually picked up the magazine from his chair and folded in half to tuck it inside his inner pocket as he stood up.

When he looked at Blaise again, he saw his eyes lit up as if he just remembered something.

"Oh yeah, Draco, I know you've got to get going, but can you come by my office for a quick chat? There are new offers pouring in for you, so if we can just quickly go over your schedule-"

"What? You mean now? No, I don't think so. I've an urgent appointment."

Draco didn't have work until after noon today, but he was busy enough in his head. He had to look over, examine, scrutinize, analyze and criticize his newly purchased periodical.

"Please, just five minutes? I promise I won't keep you longer than that," said Blaise in a pleading tone.

At that precise moment, Draco thought Blaise's glance flickered to his chest where he kept the Quibbler. Draco quickly shifted and said with a sigh, "Alright. You keep your word. Five minutes is all I can give you."

---

The agency's office was located in the second and third floors of a small but chic pink building in the corner of Diagon Alley. There was a small sign hanging from the wall that read 'Warlocks Model Management'. Draco would come to the place once or twice a week to arrange his schedule.

Following Blaise, Draco listlessly ascended the steps which led to the agency's office.

"Weasley, what are you doing here?"

Draco heard Blaise, who reached the second floor seconds earlier, say in an astonished tone. Draco took the remaining steps two at a time. Reaching the top of the staircase, he saw Ron standing in front of the office door. He was wearing a tatty orange T-shrit and jeans, so unlike anything he'd worn the other day for the shooting.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Draco said with narrowed eyes, placing his hand on Blaise's right shoulder to gently push him aside. The redhead snapped his head at Draco and scowled.

"I have nothing to do with _you_, Malfoy. It's Zabini I've been waiting for."

Draco unconsciously gave Blaise a dubious look. Blaise just shrugged and said, "What is it, Weasley?"

Ron looked askew at Draco as if to imply he didn't want him there. Noticing the look, Draco became even more determined not to move an inch, and ignore the mute appeal emitted by the redhead.

However, when Blaise glanced at Draco with a little apologetic smile, it became difficult for him to act unaware of the situation. With a snort, Draco shrugged and turned his back to the other two, receding a few steps from them.

After a moment's hesitation, Ron started to talk to Blaise in a hushed tone. Draco snickered to himself. Talking in a lowered voice was meaningless, since he could make out most of the words Ron was saying, with all his attention concentrated on his ears.

"Listen Zabini, I need my payment NOW." Ron's voice sounded suddenly petulant.

Without thinking, Draco said "Ha" out loud. Ron directed a glare at Draco, but quickly turned back to Blaise.

"We've already discussed this, Weasely. I can't. You'll receive it next month and it's clearly stated in the contract, remember?"

"How am I supposed to pay my rent and bills, then?"

"Didn't you tell me you had a part-time job at the owl shop? What happened to that?

"I did, until I got fired last week for not showing up on what happened to be one of the busiest day. And you know what? That was the day I had my photo shoot."

"Well that's your problem, not ours," said Blaise, rolling his eyes.

"Look, Zabini, can't you just stop being a butt-head and bloody make an exception?"

"Here you go, Weasley."

Both Ron and Blaise turned their heads to Draco at once. Draco was reaching out his hand to Ron. On his palm were several Galleon coins.

"What are these for?" said Ron with an annoyed look.

Draco shrugged and said, "Charity, I guess. It's my nature to feel charitable whenever I see someone who deserves my almsgiving."

"Fuck the charity and quit butting in, Malfoy!" Ron roughly pushed back Draco's hand. He was fuming, face and ears turning beet red.

"I won't be too obstinate if I were you, Weasley. You don't want to starve now, do you?"

"I'd be happy to starve than have your pity," spat out Ron.

"Then starve."

The two glowered at each other for several seconds. Ron was the first to break eye contact. After giving a last reproving look at Blaise, he turned on his heels and strode down the staircase. The sound of the entrance door being roughly opened and then shut with a slam echoed throughout the building.

When silence fell again, Blaise cocked an eyebrow at Draco.

"Now, that was cruel."

Draco snorted. "Same goes for you, Blaise."

It was true. If only Blaise had the generosity to give Ron what he wanted -Draco wouldn't have had to feel the subtle disappointment that Ron didn't even seem to get the slightest hint of Draco's kindness, however elusive it might have been.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
Beta: Tara (Many thanks!)  
Pairings: Ron/Draco, and maybe a tiny bit of Ron/Terry Boot  
A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, and sorry for the long wait!

**Chapter 4 **

----

With a small wave of his wand, Draco closed his planner shut. He had come to Blaise's office today to go over his schedule for the next couple of months. There had been a lot to discuss, since it involved decision-making on which offers to accept and to decline without making waves with the clients. Draco trusted Blaise when it came to choosing works suitable for a top-earning model.

When Draco had arrived at the office an hour ago, it was still somewhat light out. Now, the patch of sky visible from the office window was dark, except for the reflection of the candle lamps of shops lining Diagon Alley and the flickering of snow.

"Poor Weasley, he'd probably been kicked out of his flat by now for not paying his rent," said Draco casually, as he slid his quill inside his planner. "He might be wandering around the streets and starving this very moment, not that that's new to him," he continued, peering through the window as if he could spot the redhead in the crowd down the street any moment. He'd plastered a smirk on his face, as an attempt to shove away any feeling, be it a pleasant one or not, that might've welled up in his throat with the thought of a shivering, hungry Weasley.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Draco, but I don't think that's likely."

Draco looked up at Blaise with a quizzical look.

"I sent him a cheque before I had to see that vicious glare again," said Blaise, slightly smiling to himself.

Draco blinked. He what? Sent him a check? Blaise had been that insistent not to pay Weasley in advance. Why did he have to change all of a sudden? That was called 'stealing a march,' trying to make good impressions on the redhead behind Draco's back.

Draco huffed inside. He should've known better than to trust an ex-Slytherin.

Not just that. Blaise had taken away Draco's fun of waiting Ron to turn up outside his door. He'd been half-expecting that Ron, out of starvation, setting all his pride aside, would eventually show up outside his doorstep, and ask him for the Galleon coins he'd once turned down. Besides, a very small portion of Draco's pocket money wasn't the only thing he could offer, if he had any chance.

"I thought you weren't going to pay him until next month," said Draco with a straight face, killing any hint of irritation.

"I wasn't going to, but things have changed since then," said Blaise.

"What exactly do you mean?" asked Draco, though he thought he knew the reason. He was just hoping for a different answer.

"Lovegood told me the last issue of the Quibbler's selling real good. Fifteen-percent increase, actually."

Draco sighed. "So? You're not thinking those sales have anything to do with Weasley, are you?"

"But do you honestly think the Quibbler would gain new readers for something as stupid as a new Kneazle breed? Besides, we're getting lots of floo calls and owl mails asking about Weasley, not to mention new offers."

Blaise pointed at the top of his desk, where a pile of letters was stacked. Draco said nothing, but merely shrugged to show his annoyance.

"So I thought it won't hurt to bend the contract a bit and let him have his way this time. We don't want him jumping to another agent for better conditions, not when he hasn't even properly started yet," said Blaise, matter-of-factly.

"I knew it. I knew people were losing good taste," said Draco sardonically, leaning back in his chair. Of course he didn't mean to include himself as such _people_. Most certainly, Draco was different. It wasn't like he found Ron attractive yesterday.

From what Blaise had said, Ron was doing well so far. People seemed to like him. Draco knew this would happen sooner or later, and he was far from happy about it.

"So what's his next job going to be?"

"Of course he has the next shooting for the Quibbler, but that's a bit ahead, so I had him go to a catalogue shoot yesterday."

"What catalogue?" asked Draco somewhat testily, biting back the phrase, _Yesterday? You didn't tell me that_.

"You know the Italian owl mail-order catalogue, 'Genio'? They said they saw the Quibber and wanted him for their autumn catalogue."

"Was he the only one who got called in?"

"No, they asked for two other models, but they weren't specific about it, so I sent over Higgins and Boot."

_Boot_? Did he just say Boot? As in Terry Boot?

Draco narrowed his eyes dangerously and repeated, "_Boot_?"

"Yeah, Terry Boot. You know him, don't you?" Blaise flinched a little under Draco's glare.

Draco knew all too well who Boot was. He was an ex-Ravenclaw who had been a member of the cryptic Defense Against the Dark Arts group Potter had organized in their fifth year. Draco had witnessed him talking to Ron once or twice in the Great Hall. Until then, it hadn't been often that Ron talked to another bloke from a different House. It had been enough to initially cause Draco to develop a bit of hostility towards him. Draco hadn't been certain back then, but now that they worked in the same business, he was quite positive that Boot swung both ways. The way his eyes glittered as he peered at his fellow male models was fair evidence.

An uneasy feeling crept up Draco's spine. There was no way that photo shoots involving several models ended without them interacting with one another in some kind of way. It might be simply standing or sitting next to one another, or some light touching of arms or shoulders.

Even apart from that, Ron was a rank beginner. It was easily presumable that he must've been teased or looked down upon by others. Draco knew that each time that might've happened, Ron must've either turned red or become too embarrassed to continue, and...

"Draco? Something wrong?"

Draco suddely came to himself with Blaise's anxious tone. Without knowing, he'd been tapping the surface of the desk with his fingers in an impatient manner. He stopped the tapping and brought his fingers to push back the lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

"No, nothing. I was just thinking about the runway show next month. Well then, I'm leaving." With that, Draco stood up.

"See you next week," said Blaise, though he still had a questionable look on his face. Draco just nodded in return and walked out the door without another word. He didn't show it, but he was quite pissed at Blaise at the moment. After all, Blaise was the initial cause of all of Draco's concerns.

Anyway, _who cares_, thought Draco to himself. Who cares if Weasley flirted with another bloke. Who cares if he made a fool of himself in front of other professional models. In ten minutes, Draco would be straight home and soak in a hot tub, and then sleep like the dead. All thoughts of a certain redhead would drain away, and he would wake up next morning fresh and clean, and Weasel-free.

When Draco opened the front door of the building and stepped outside, a gush of cold wind swept over his face. He quickly tugged his collar up. It wasn't the nicest night to stroll outside, but the narrow street was full of happy-looking witches and wizards nontheless. Draco remembered it was Friday night. There should have been a club or two nearby that would always welcome him with much enthusiasm. However, Draco wasn't in the mood tonight.

Envisioning a hot tub with a glass of fine wine, he tucked his hands into his pockets and started walking down the alley. After taking a few steps, he noticed two tall figures coming from the opposite direction. Draco stopped in his track, the image of a relaxing bath falling apart. They were none other than Ron Weasley and Terry Boot. Chattering, the two entered a pub at the other side of the alley. Draco knew that place. It was becoming a rather popular hangout for models lately, for its loud Muggle music and wide selection of drinks.

Before he knew it, Draco was muttering, "What does he think he's doing," and crossed the lane in two leaps. He didn't bother to apologize as his shoulder bumped against passers-by. Flaring, he pushed open the half-closed door of the pub.

Though it was a little early to start a drink, the place was already bustled with customers. Near the counter stood Ron and Terry, glancing around the pub to find empty seats. Draco didn't miss Terry's right hand placed gently on Ron's back. Feeling the blood rushing to his temple, Draco strode directly towards the redhead. Ignoring the astonished look on his face and an irritated "Malfoy," he grabbed him by his arm.

"Come on, Weasley. We're getting out of here. "

When he started walking back towards the door ignoring Ron's protests completely, a different voice came from behind.

"Hey, What's wrong with you, Malfoy?"

Draco turned his head to face a very grouchy-looking Terry Boot.

"Don't take it personally, Boot. It's Blaise. He wants him at his office, urgently," said Draco, throwing a cold look at Terry and pointing his chin at the redhead. Before he had to hear anything back from Boot, he dragged Ron out the door.

Once they were outside, Ron pulled his arm out of Draco's grasp at virtually the same time that Draco said, "You might want to be more careful about choosing your drinking mates, Weasley."

"What?" Ron looked puzzled, rubbing his wrist where Draco's nails had dug in.

"Couldn't you tell the bloke was trying to get into your pants?"

"My _where_?" Ron looked up disbelievingly.

"In case you're too thick to notice, Boot swings both ways," said Draco, not able to hide the venom in his voice.

Ron dropped his jaw. After some pause, he finally said, "You mean he likes girls..._and_ blokes?"

"You heard me, Weasley. Don't make me repeat myself."

"Come off it! He was just trying to lecture me about the ideal dietary life of a model."

"And then what? Were you invited to his room after that? Think what you like, Weasley, but I'm not joking."

Ron looked shocked, but to Draco's surprise, his expression slowly turned to that of curiousness.

"I didn't notice that when we were at Hogwarts. So it's not a complete rumour that half the blokes in the fashion industry are gay. Well, of coarse, in Boot's case, he's bi, so it doesn't necessarily fit, but still-"

Then there was a sudden twinkle in his blue eyes. "What about you, Malfoy? Are you-"

"No, I'm not." Draco answered a little too quickly.

"What do you mean 'you're not'? You're not like Boot? Does that mean you only like blokes, or-"

"What's with your clothes, Weasley? They look _new_." Before Ron could go any further, Draco quickly changed the subject. "Please don't tell me you splurged your first pay cheque on these."

Draco picked the front of Ron's henna jacket and rubbed the material against his fingers as to examine what it was made from. Draco had noticed the moment he laid eyes on him today, that Ron wasn't wearing his usual shabby clothes. Instead, he had on a casual but smart leather jacket over a white turtle-neck, and a pair of black trousers that tended to set off his long legs a bit too much for Draco's liking. All in all, they looked good on him.

Draco was used to being looked back at by passers-by, what with his looks and popularity. However, when he noticed they were gawping not only at him but also at Ron, he started getting uncomfortably twitchy. It was just too wrong, people throwing admiring looks at Weasley. Draco wanted to tell them all that this was a _Weasley_, nothing new, nothing _rare_, and nothing to make a fuss over.

Ron flicked Draco's fingers away, already turning dangerously red.

"Shut it, Malfoy. I wore these for the shooting yesterday, and the people from 'Genio' gave it to me after the shooting was over."

"What, they couldn't bear to see you in your own pathetic clothes?"

"They told me they suited me, and it would be an advert if I wore them," said Ron, looking daggers at Draco and flaring his nostrils.

Draco snickered.

"You seriously think someone as nameless as yourself can become an advert? Really cute, Weasley, how you're now a wanna-be famous model, just because you've posed for some pulp editorial once or twice."

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Ron's fingers curl up into fists, but continued.

"You just can't hide your excitement, can you? It's like a dream come true, isn't it, finally getting to wear something new? But you know what? They don't suit you at all. After all these years you've been wearing ratty hand-me-downs, it's just not right seeing you dressed differently."

The words just popped out of Draco's lips, but there was no way he could admit how he truly felt.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Ron. "Just told you the truth," he shrugged. "Did it hurt?"

"Get lost, wanker," spat out Ron with deep hatred in his voice.

The fuming redhead quickly turned his back to Draco and strode off to the direction of the model agency, mingling into the crowd within seconds. Draco clicked his tongue as he watched Ron's red hair disappearing into the press of wizards. He didn't get the chance to tell him that Blaise hadn't really said that he wanted him there.

Draco knew now that soaking in a hot tub would do nothing to soothe his ripples in his heart, and sighed at the thought.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
Beta: Tara (Thank you as always!)  
Pairing: Ron/Draco  
Warning: Contains a minor spoiler from HBP 

**Chapter 5**

**---**

Draco knew Blaise Zabini was a busy man. Being a model agent, there were supposed to be a slew of floo calls to make and owl mails to send to designers, editors and models, more than one could imagine in a day. Blaise had once been a model himself. After walking the runway for two seasons, he had announced to his agent that he thought he could tap his potential more in the management side of the business. He had an eye for the business and connections in the industry owing to his mother.

However tied up he was with his schedule, he somehow always managed to get round to having a drink next to Draco at a bar or a restaurant at least once every other week. Draco knew it was of course Blaise's duty as a competent agent to keep tabs with the agency's top model. Draco didn't mind being in his company since Blaise was always a good listener. Draco simply needed somone to whom he could let out his daily frustration and complaints.

Tonight was another one of those nights. They were having a couple of glasses of liquor in an exclusive club in Hogsmeade, discussing the latest trends, new brands and newcomer models.

Just when Draco thought there couldn't be anything more to discuss for the night, Blaise said out of the blue, "Did you say anything to Weasley lately?"

Draco's mind which had been slightly blurred because of the Firewhisky heightened at once.

"What do you mean _anything_?" Draco had a vague idea what Blaise was talking about, but allowed himself to ask.

"Don't know. Just wanted to know if you had a chance to talk to him lately."

"Why?"

"He told me last week that he wanted to quit the whole thing, saying it was all rubbish."

An uncomfortable feeling suddenly crept over Draco. Draco'd been thinking that he might had said things he needn't the other day, that he'd been maybe perhaps just a little bit...childish. He thought he'd seen a tinge of hurt in those blue eyes. Draco knew this wasn't Hogwarts, and they weren't fourteen or fifteen anymore. Two years had passed since their coming of age. However, every time he went near Ron, he couldn't help acting the way he had when they'd been at school. But if Ron had taken his words seriously, that would mean that Draco wasn't the only one who needed some growing up to do.

"Let him quit then," said Draco, making an indifferent face.

Blaise sighed. "But you know you can't take him at his word. He's temporarily lost confidence for some trivial reason, I'm guessing."

After a moment's pause, Blaise looked up at Draco with a probing gaze. "Does this ring a bell to you?"

Draco stared incredulously at Blaise for a good two seconds, then burst in a chuckle.

"No, what are you talking about?"

"Just curious, because well, you've always been sort of hard on him," said Blaise, somewhat tentatively.

"That's because he's been always standing in my way," spat Draco.

"In your way to Potter?"

"My way to _what_?" Draco squinted his eyes at Blaise.

"Let's get this straight." Blaise straightened up a bit in his seat. "You always had me thinking that you had a thing for Potter, Draco."

Draco couldn't believe his ears. "That is just _sick_," said Draco under his breath, after the initial shock had subsided. "And how long did you say you've been thinking that way? Unbelievable Blaise, just unbelievable. You could've asked me years ago, and I would've been more than happy to deny that misplaced idea of yours."

Blaise shrugged with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, but the way you'd always been talking about Potter and keeping an eye on him had made me think that way. Well, I know now that I've been thinking wrong."

"Thinking wrong? Dead wrong!" Draco buried his face in his right hand. He didn't like the bespectacled git in the least.

Then Blaise said thoughtfully, "Wait, then why did you say Weasley's been in your way?"

_Oh, shite_. The conversation was heading where Draco didn't want it to. He was starting to think that it might have been a hair better if Blaise stuck to his Draco's-in-love-with-Potter-theory than to find out anything close to what Draco was actually feeling towards Ron.

"He's- they are a sacrilege to my beliefs. I simply can't stand them. Their love of Muggles, how they're content with their financial status, position, everything," said Draco, staring at the liquid in his glass.

"I thought you'd gotten over the Malfoy-Weasley feud thing," said Blaise, looking a little astonished.

He had. Draco sighed. He now cared less about Mudbloods or Muggle-lovers. After the war, the purest line of wizards was slowly heading towards extinction. Even the purebloods were marrying Muggle-borns or even Muggles these days as if it was nothing to be ashamed of. Even if Draco had wanted to show his disapproval, he hadn't known where to start. In addition to that, the Weasleys weren't as poor as they used to be. Arthur Weasley now had a prestigious position in the Ministry, whereas Lucius was just a well-known war criminal.

However, this family feud thing was the only excuse Draco could come up with at the moment. Now that he brought out the words, he couldn't just take them back, however fake they sounded, even to himself.

"There are things in life you simply can't get over with, no matter hard you try," said Draco, just to dig a deeper hole for himself.

"Hmm, deeper-rooted than I thought," said Blaise.

"So he's gotten out of modeling already to go back to his miserable life? What a loser," said Draco, trying to sound casual.

"No, actually."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "Make yourself intelligible, Blaise."

"I convinced him to give it another try."

"You did." Draco threw a reproachful look at Blaise.

"Actually, it was more of a threat, but yeah, I did."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him that he had to pay the contract cancellation fee in full if he wanted to quit. That was all it took."

Draco let out a derisive chuckle.

Blaise continued, "But I still had doubt so I did drop by the second shoot for the Quibbler last week, just to make sure he didn't back out at the last minute, you know."

"And did he show up?" asked Draco, not looking at Blaise.

"He did, grudgingly though. But you should've seen him when he found out who he was shooting with. Boy, was he quick to recover. Such an obvious git," said Blaise, slightly shaking his head.

"Who was this other model?" asked Draco, this time shotting a sharp look at Blaise.

"You know the blonde from Germany, Sabina?"

"Oh, _her_. I've always thought she needed to lose at least a stone if she wanted to stay as a model. She isn't even pretty enough to cover up her weight."

"Well, Weasley seemed to have a different opinion, apparently. He was all smiles throughout the shooting. 'Muggle dating' was the concept of that issue, and they simulated a Muggle couple's date in Muggle London. You could say they were quite a cute couple, if you tried to ignore that one of them was Weasley."

_Oh, shut up, Blaise_. Draco slid an ice cube in his mouth and crunched it to pieces with his back teeth, after darting a sideways glance at Blaise. The faint guilt he'd been feeling towards Ron until then vanished before he knew it.

_Of course_. Draco knew the redhead was straight as a die. Memories of unpleasant snogging sessions of Weasley and a Lavender Brown he had accidentally witnessed in his sixth year were still clear in his mind. If those weren't enough evidence, the last time Draco saw him before meeting him again at the agency office, he'd been with Hermione Granger.

"You can never stop wondering how that Quibbler lot come up with such crappy features all the time. What's the concept of the next issue?"

"Next...oh yeah," Blaise snorted.

"What?"

"You won't believe this. They said it's going to be called 'Muggle lifestyle' and they're featuring a typical day of a gay couple because they've already shot a straight couple for the previous issue," said Blaise, simpering.

Hearing this, Draco almost choked on his Firewhisky.

"A _gay_ couple? Whaｔ, are they out of their minds?" The remaining ice cubes in Draco's glass rattled as he placed the glass on the table with a little force.

"That's what they told me. Lovegood said they already have a scenario made up for a gay couple, and they're going to show Muggle fashion following that scenario."

"Loony Lovegood! That sure is the kind of crap she would come up with. And who's the other model?"

"It's likely to be Terry Boot. Lovegood told me they wanted him if his schedule permitted. You know Lovegood and Boot were in the same House? I bet she wants a little reunion."

"_Boot_?"

_Not again_. Why did it always have to be Boot, especially when they were shooting a gay couple? And why did they have to make Weasley gay in the first place?

Facing this unexpected matter, all kinds of thoughts started racing through Draco's mind. Thinking at warp speed, he realized he could come up with only one solution. He wanted to avoid it if he could help it, but there wasn't any other option.

After a long pause, he finally muttered under his breath, "I'll do it."

"Do what?"

"The shoot for the next Quibbler. I can do better than Boot. He's no good."

Blaise dropped his jaw. "What?" He looked up at Draco, wide eyed. "You, posing for the Quibbler?"

"Why not?" Draco said nonchalantly.

Blaise's eyes grew even wider, looking stunned. "That's...look, Draco," said Blaise, as he straightened himself in his seat once again, "You can drop your reputation for doing this, and have you realized you have to be Weasley's boyfriend for the day?"

"Yeah, I've pretty much figured that out," said Draco, letting out a sigh. In reality, he had to try hard not to feel pleased at the sound of 'Weasley's boyfriend'.

"I don't understand. I thought you hated him."

"I do. I just want to show him how a professional model should be, you know, teach him a lesson that modeling is no easy task."

Yes, that was the reason Draco wanted to shoot with him. Ron would realize the palpable difference in professionalism between them and lose whatever confidence he had. If things went well, he might actually quit modeling. That's what Draco wanted. Ron had been such a distraction to him lately. He could never feel the peace of mind if Ron was around. It was all his fault that Draco couldn't sleep well and woke up the next morning feeling like he had a hangover. It was starting to show in his appearance. This was not good.

Blaise looked baffled but then said sternly, "I'm not sure about this. I know he's a pain in the neck, and I hate to say this, but can't you just lay it off this time? He's new to this thing and it'll be harsh for him to be in the same shoot as someone like you." Then he added, "You know I'm saying this from an agent standpoint."

Draco pouted. "You're no fun, Blaise. Come on, don't take it so seriously. It's just an editorial for the Quibbler. I need a change of pace. It's been long since I had something fun to work for. A flustered, lost Weasel would give us a good laugh, don't you think? I promise I won't forget to cover up for him."

Blaise had his brows knitted and his fingers were touching his temple, but Draco knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in. He didn't miss Blaise's lips curling up at the edge slightly.

"I don't know what Lovegood's going to say about this."

"Fine, then let's ask her who'd they prefer for the shooting, me or Boot," said Draco in an assured manner.

Blaise sighed and raised his hand. "Alright, alright, but let me check-" He took out his planner and flipped the pages with his wand.

"No, there's a runway show in Milan that day."

"That shouldn't be any problem. Just tell Lovegood to move their photo shoot forward a week or two. Oh, and don't tell Weasley that I'll be there. I want to see his shocked face when he finds out who he's shooting with."

"You can be really nasty sometimes. You know that?"

Draco just gave a sly smile in return. He thought he saw a mischievous glint in Blaise's eyes, too. This was going to be something to look forward to.

TBC

---

A/N: I know there wasn't much going on in this chapter, but there will be more Ron/Draco interaction in the next part!  
Thank you so much for the reviews. I truly appreciate every one of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter  
Pairing: Ron/Draco  
Beta: Tara

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed my previous chapter(s). Sorry for the long wait again. This chapter is longer than the previous ones, so I hope you enjoy.

**Chapter 6**

Draco was fashionably late. He walked from the point he had Apparated towards the Muggle cafe where the photo shoot for the Quibbler was to take place. It was almost an hour after the time he'd been told to arrive. He didn't feel a tinge of guilt for having the others wait for him. If not for the circumstances, the Quibbler would never have someone as good as him for their model. He needed to show them, especially who were _new_ to this industry, the hierarchy of the business.

He was fortunate that Blaise couldn't come today. He could mess with the redhead all by himself without any possible hindrance or interference.

Draco walked up to the side door of the cafe. After checking his reflection in the glass, he slowly swung the door open. Just like its classical appearance, the place looked quaint, with paintings decorating the walls and a chandelier dangling from its high ceiling. It was nearly lunch time, and Muggles dressed in suits appeared to be the majority of the customers. Some were reading their papers or magazines, while others were in conversation with their partners.

Draco glanced around the spacious cafe until he spotted the object of his search. At some distance, Ron Weasley was sitting alone at one of the outside tables facing the street. Beside him were two men who appeared to be a photographer and his assistant. They were shifting the position of their equipment, trying to find a good spot for placing the camera.

Curving the side of his lip, Draco stepped forward to his target table, only to be stopped by a familiar female voice.

"Oh, there you are, Malfoy."

Very close to where Draco stood was Luna Lovegood, sitting alone at the very rear table of the cafe, her eyes protruding as ever and weird shaped earrings dangling from her ears. Draco nodded in acknowledgement of her presence, somewhat miffed for being stalled. She'd been scribbling something in her notebook but closed it shut and stood up at the same moment.

"Everyone was worried that you weren't going to show up, but I knew you'd come, Malfoy."

Not exactly wanting to hear why she thought that way, Draco merely shrugged. He had a strange feeling that Luna sometimes had keen intuition, unimaginable from her demeanour. Then a question rose up in him that he didn't dare ask. _Does 'everyone' include Weasley?_ Perhaps not, because Ron wasn't supposed to know that he was his partner for the day.

"So Malfoy, shall I show you upstairs to the dressing room?" asked Luna, as she pushed open the back door of the cafe andheld it open for him.

"Poor Ronald's been waiting for some time now. He's already spent a couple of hours this morning shooting a scene alone in a Muggle office. If you'd come a little earlier, he wouldn't have to be so grumpy," said Luna, though she didn't sound so accusatory.

Draco just sniffed once to let her know that he'd heard her.

Before following Luna up the dimly lit staircase leading to their anteroom, he tilted his head sideways a little and gave another glance at Ron. The redhead facing his back to Draco was wearing a white Muggle dress shirt. His dark grey jacket was resting on the backrest of the chair next to him. Draco could tell from his sloppy posture that he wasn't in a very good mood, just like Luna had told him. Smiling, Draco turned his back and headed upstairs to the room the staffs had probably bewitched to use as a backstage area.

---

When Draco came back down to the cafe, fully dressed in a well-tailored light grey Muggle suit, he saw Luna now in conversation with the photographer. They were all standing beside Ron's table, leaving him alone. Ron was holding his cheek in his hand, crossing one leg over the other and looking blandly at passers-by.

Approaching the table from the side, Draco saw Ron steal a look at the food in front of him. They weren't there when Draco had first arrived at the cafe. Someone must have ordered them while he was getting ready. There were plates of sandwiches, salads, and cups of coffee. They were probably to be used for the photo shoot.

To Draco's amusement, Ron's fingers reached out stealthily for the plate in front of him. He fingered a piece of chip, popped it into his mouth and began chewing it slowly. After a few seconds, his long fingers were heading to the same plate again. However, before they could reach their destination for the second time, Draco extended his arm to seize them.

"What the-" Ron looked up with a jolt. "Malfoy!" He scowled at Draco whilst pulling his fingers out of his grasp.

"You should make those naughty fingers behave themselves, Weasel, before they nick all the food for today's shoot."

Ron frowned. "What are you doing here, Malfoy? You're not observing _again_, are you? I wish I had as much time as you to spare," he said with a sigh.

Draco curled his lips at the word 'observe'. Ron didn't know yet that he came here today to model - to be more exact, to be his boyfriend. Ron squinted his eyes, apparently pissed that his words didn't have enough effect to annoy the blond.

Draco gestured the chair whose leg seemed to be entangled with Ron's.

"Do you mind?"

"Yes, Malfoy, this seat is for Boot. Any _spectator_ should watch from the back-"

"Malfoy, good, the suit seems to fit you perfectly, and I see you two are getting along."

Ron shot up at Luna with an intangible look, having been interrupted by her who didn't seem to question why Draco was there at all. While Luna introduced Draco to the photographer, Ron looked dumbfounded, looking from Luna to Draco. Draco bit his cheeks.

When the photographer and the assistant went back to work, Ron snapped, "Luna, any idea how long Boot is intending to keep us waiting?"

Luna looked mildy surprised, popping her protuberant eyes. "Didn't you hear from Zabini that he's not in the shoot?"

Ron glanced at Luna alarmingly. "What do you mean he's not in? He has to be."

"Not exactly, Ronald, that's the reason we have Malfoy with us today," Luna beamed. "It would've been nice to meet Terry after nearly two years, but we have to say we're just as glad to have Malfoy. You know we first asked him before we got you. You two will make a perfect couple."

"_What?_"

Mouth agape, Ron gave a glimpse towards Draco. Draco gave him a mocking grin in return. The redhead looked horror-struck, just the reaction Draco had been expecting.

Ron instantly got up from his chair and placed a hand on Luna's shoulder to lightly push her away from the others. He managed to lower his voice to a hiss, but he could be clearly heard nonetheless for his agitation in his voice.

"You don't understand. This can't be true, Luna."

"Don't worry, Weasley, you're not dreaming," kibitzed Draco.

Ron's shoulders tensed, but he continued hissing to Luna. "If I'd known I was shooting with _him_, I-"

"You what, Weasley?"

Ron swung around in alarm at Draco's drawl. Draco continued, "Back out? Very likely for a wimp like you, Weasley, but this is not a Quidditch match at Hogwarts. You either act like a pro and do what you do, or leave already never to be called back again."

After staring at Draco intensely for a few seconds, Ron withdrew his hand from Luna and pulled his chair away from the other and slumped in it. Slightly smiling, Draco took the seat which had been next to Ron's. He peaked a look at the redhead who sat across from him now. He looked as if he was trying to look composed, which brought another smile to Draco's face.

Sensing the tense mood or not, Luna started a brief explanation of the concept of the day's photo session. Draco and Ron were supposed to be a gay couple living together in a Muggle flat and working at different Muggle firms in London. According to the scenario, they were to meep up for lunch at this cafe after their morning work.

"So you've finished your morning work, and this is now lunchtime, meeting up with your boyfriend." Ron made a face as Luna continued. "Just relax, talking would be good, and take what you want in front of you and act cozy while the photographer does his job."

"Act what?"

"I think she meant that we should display a bit of public affection, Weasley," drawled Draco. Ron shot a dangerous look at him.

"Excuse me, but I'm not the type to show public display of whatever even if the person in front of me was a raving beauty, so unlike the one I'm facing right now."

_Like what you'd showed off with that Brown girl back in Hogwarts wasn't._ Draco snorted and said, "Just do what you were told, Weasley." Then he leaned in and whispered, "Act like a pro."

Ron just glared back at him, looking pissed.

As soon as the photographer motioned to start, Ron grabbed the roasted beef and bacon sandwich with swiss cheese in front of him and munched on it, occasionally helping himself to the chips with his fork. Draco wrinkled his nose.

"Are you aware just how much calories those things contain?" asked Draco, poking his salad with his fork.

"Don't interrupt. I'm trying to act professional here. Remember what Luna said? We're supposed to have had a morning full of Muggle office work. You know what that means? It means no wands. I need to build up my energy for what's supposed to be waiting in the afternoon." Ron pointed at Draco's salad bowl with his fork. "Do you think a small bowl of leaves would satisfy the stomach of a Muggle businessman in his prime? Well, except if you were a nancy, of course." He then snickered and added, "I hit the spot, didn't I?"

Draco rolled his eyes. This ignorant git just didn't understand the basics of modeling and nutrition, did he. Not wanting to answer his question, Draco asked instead, "So are you keeping in touch withyour new girlfriend?"

"What new girlfriend?" Ron narrowed his eyes.

"Sabina, was it? I heard you exchanged Floo addresses with her."

Draco didn't know if Ron actually had, but it was an euphemistic way to ask him if he was going out with anyone at the moment.

"That's none of your business, Malfoy."

Not very pleased with the answer he got, Draco cocked an eyebrow at Ron to notice a drop of sandwich sauce smearing his cheek. Instead of pointing it out to him, he reached out a hand towards his face. Ron boggled at Draco's fingertips wiping off the sauce from his left cheek but otherwise didn't try to brush them aside. Good. He finally seemed to have realized the situation they were in.

When Draco tried to rub the sauce off with the table cloth, Ron said, smiling snidely, "Uh-uh, have you forgotten we're supposed to be an ickle couple? Shouldn't you be licking that off instead of wiping it off on the table cloth?"

Ron sounded as if it was a prank for Draco to lick off his finger that touched the redhead's cheek - very off base of him.

"No. It looks too salty for my taste. You lick it."

Draco jabbed his finger in Ron's face. Ron stared at Draco's thumb, slightly opening his lips, making Draco insensibly shiver inside. However, he resumed attacking his sandwich after a moment's pause.

_Bugger. _Retreating his thumb left in midair, Draco ended up wiping it off at the hem of the tablecloth disgruntledly. Watching, Ron smiled at him mischievously.

"Sorry _Draco darling_, being the pro I am, I would've loved to lick your little finger off for you, but as you're aware, this is a public cafe." He stopped, taking a glance at other customers who seemed to be looking in their direction.

Draco snorted. The redhead seemed to have decided to divert himself with this situation in his own way. There was no way then that Draco wasn't as well. He might as well play along with it.

"Don't worry, _Ron baby_, I know you like to act prudish in public," he said with a smirk.

Ron lowered his hands holding the sandwich in a shocked gesture.

"_Bloody hell_, Malfoy, don't call me that! I think I've just lost my appetite." He then mumbled something like having goosebumps. Such an annoying git. It actually made Draco feel chagrined at every point. He had no intention of letting Ron have the upper hand forever, though. He was going to bide his time for the opportunity to come.

---

After the shooting at the cafe was over, they moved the setting to a Muggle dwelling which was two levels above the floor they were using as their dressing room. It was readily conceivable that the flat was inhabited by a Muggle or Muggles who _happened_ to be away for the day again.

When he stepped inside the sitting room of the flat, Draco noticed that there wasn't anything luxurious about the place, but he liked the air of sophistication it had for a Muggle home. The ceiling was high, the furniture was simple and modern, coordinated in green and white.

"Lovely, isn't it?" came Luna from behind, gazing around the room with a dreamy expression. "This is supposed to be your place, a love nest, where you relax in each other's presence. You wouldn't have to act covertly here any more."

"Luna," said Ron, kneading his temples exaggeratedly. "Could you do me a favour and try to be a bit more careful about your choice of words? I think I might throw up if you keep on like that."

"Where's the professionalism you've been boasting about, Weasley?" sneered Draco, seating himself on the settee in front of a Muggle television. They had both changed into casual clothes. Ron was now wearing a blue v-neck jumper and jeans, Draco a black buttoned-up shirt and grey trousers. Muggle clothes weren't as bad as Draco had thought, and to much of his surprise, the stylist seemed to know what suited the models.

The photographer started focusing his lens on Draco. He then made a short halt to say, "Ron, why don't you take a seat next to Draco, and we can start."

For a second Ron had his eyebrows knitted, but next moment he was trying to look casual, flopping into the settee next to Draco. He then crossed his leg over the other, folding his arms before his chest and scooting to the edge. Draco rolled his eyes.

"If you keep going on like that, we'll never get done with this. Or do you want this to last forever? Sorry, Weasley, I didn't realize you were enjoying this so much."

Before Ron could retort, the photographer called on, "Ron, can you rest your head on Draco's shoulder?"

"_What_?"

Ron unfolded both his arms and legs at once, almost on the verge of standing up. Draco cleared his throat and gave him a reproachful look to remind him that this was business.

To Draco's slight surprise, Ron seemed to have understood. The redhead reseated himself and placed his head roughly on the blond's shoulder. Draco got a little jolt at the sudden weight on his left shoulder and soft strands of red hair brushing his neck and the smell of expensive cologne tickling his nostrils. The makeup staff must have sprayed some on him.

"Don't be so tensed up, Ron. I know you can do better than that. I need to see you two more comfortable around each other," the photographer called on Ron again, all the while pressing the shutter of the Muggle apparatus incessantly.

Draco knew now was the chance to get one up on Ron. He sneaked his arm around his waist and pulled him closer, which made the redhead stiffen and glare up at him. If Draco moved an inch or two, his lips would brush against Ron's nape.

"Relax, Weasley. Let me give you a tip. If you want to make a career out of this, you'll have to learn to act more natural in front of the camera."

"I'd be just fine if you'd let go," said Ron, trying to squirm out of Draco's hold. Conveniently, the photographer said, "Hold still, Ron. Good, good. Alright, now can you show us a quick kiss and then we'll move on to the next part."

"_A what?_" Ron started in his seat.

"A small peck would be enough," said the photographer casually as if it was nothing special.

Draco laughed up his sleeve whilst watching Ron go red. He knew this type of fashion editorials tended to make the models flirt with each other. Draco was glad as hell he'd stolen this part from Boot. He never liked the excessive contact he'd been required with other models, but today was an exception of course.

"Shut up and close your eyes, Weasley," whispered Draco. In two shakes he placed his hand at the back of Ron's neck and pulled him into a kiss. He thought he heard the intake of Luna's breath somewhere from the back of the room. Shortly afterwards, he felt himself being pushed away. Their lips parted but only by an inch.

"Remember, Weasley, this isn't a school project. We get paid for what we do."

With that said, he leaned in once again. At first, Ron made incoherent sounds against Draco's mouth but gradually became still as the blond deepened the kiss.

However, Draco had to let go of him because of the sudden, unexpected reaction his own body was having. He was having a bloody hard-on. He was quite sure that the others hadn't noticed because he had quickly shifted his position, but it still made him feel unsettled.

Taking a glimpse at Ron, he noticed the redhead had turned redder than ever. Seeing his flushed face, Draco said in an interested manner, concealing his own fluster, "Weasley, can't you try not to blush? Exactly how many shots are you intending to waste?"

Hearing that, the photographer said, "It's alright, Draco. We can change the colour of his complexion afterwards. Alright, perfect! Now, let's take a break and we'll meet up again at the bedroom, after you've gotten yourselves changed that is."

Once people started moving around, Ron glared at Draco, looking flurried.

"Was that necessary?" he said, wiping his mouth. Of course he was talking about the tongue Draco had slipped in.

"Don't think I'm enjoying this, Weasel," said Draco coolly. "It's my style to impress my clients by giving them what I'm required and even more."

"Well, why don't you do that when I'm not involved," spat out Ron, standing up and heading towards the door of the room.

Draco got up and followed out, but instead of heading straight to the dressing room, he went downstairs and out of the building. He needed to cool himself down before the last part of the shoot began. Otherwise, how was he supposed to change in the same room as Ron and the other staffs?

Draco conjured a cigarette out of thin air and ignited its tip. Leaning against the wall, he inhaled the taste of the cigarette in attempt to rid the lingering taste of Ron's lips before the next take.

---

When Draco went back to the dressing room, a wardrobe staff and a hair and makeup staff had been waiting for him, but that was all.

"Where's Weasley?" asked Draco, unbuttoning his shirt he'd been wearing.

"Oh, he's already set and probably waiting in the bedroom with the others," answered the woman standing in front of the hanger.

After changing in silk pajamas prepared for him to wear, he stepped inside the bedroom set up with Muggle equipment which he had seen in the sitting room a short while ago.

Draco spotted Ron sitting on the edge of the bed, looking a little tired while everyone else was still busy with the setup. Draco narrowed his eyes. Ron was wearing a white hooded sweatshirt and a pair of black boxers. He hadn't zipped up his sweatshirt, exposing his bare torso. He had imagined Ron to be a bit bony, but he was lightly toned, which was even more disturbing to Draco.

He felt blood rushing to his groin again. He knew he had to keep his calm or it would make it pointless to have been outside to cool off. He had to feel lucky that he had on an outfit which covered the part he least wanted to be seen. This was becoming a torture.

"Didn't know you were a flasher, Weasel," said Draco, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. He tried not to look at the redhead's bare neck and chest flecked with light-brown freckles, and with even more effort, at the cotton boxer shorts. Another painful hard-on was what he least wanted.

"I'm not," said Ron curtly, not looking in Draco's direction. Draco felt something odd about it but went on. "Then why don't you zip your shirt up so you won't look like you're showing off?"

"It's not my idea to wear it this way and it's not my fault that they decided to cover your scrawny chest with that pajama top," said Ron in a spiky tone, but still lacking the usual fervency. It was starting to annoy Draco that Ron didn't make any eye contact with him. He had a feeling Ron was trying to avoid him all of a sudden. Part of him was relieved since he didn't have the confidence to face him now and still keep his cool all the way through, but this lack of reaction was not what he was looking for. Was it because of the kiss? That was the only possible reason to explain his sudden change of attitude.

"My chest isn't scrawny. Do you have your eyes open, Weasel? You'll be in awe when you see me."

Ron raised a hand in front of Draco's face. "Uh...no, Malfoy, that's not necessary. Spare me the horror of having to see your wimpy naked body, would you?"

If Ron was still considering him as the shrimpy boy he used to be when they were in their early years at Hogwarts, he was wrong. Hadn't he realized Draco had grown almost as tall as Ron already in his sixth year? He was now only an inch shorter than him.

Once the shooting restarted, Ron didn't once look in Draco's direction. Unlike the previous scene, the shooting didn't require particular interaction, at least no conversational sort. All Draco had to do was lean on the headboard of the king-sized bed and pretend reading a Muggle paperback novel, while Ron feigned sleep at his side. Watching the other boy's closed eyelids and feeling his body heat reach him through the bed sheet made Draco terribly uneasy.

When the photographer called out for a short break to change his camera position, Ron quickly withdrew his head from Draco's side and sat up. Facing his back to Draco, he started flipping through the pages of a Muggle sport magazine which had been lying half-open at the foot of the bed, as if it was worth his interest. But Draco knew he wasn't actually seeing any of the articles since those blue eyes were unmoving.

Perhaps it was because he looked insecure that way for some reason, or perhaps to break the awkward silence between them and draw his attention towards him that Draco said, "Sorry about the other day."

Ron looked back and met Draco's eyes. _Finally_.

"What?"

"I said I was sorry about the other day."

Ron looked at him strangely. "What other day?"

"The day I last saw you, in front of the pub, remember?"

"What about it?" Ron averted his eyes again.

"I heard you told Blaise that you wanted to quit. It was because of what I'd said, wasn't it?"

Strangely, there was no sarcasm or ridicule in Draco's voice, but Ron didn't look pleased.

"That had nothing to do with you whatsoever and don't think you have such influence on me," he snarled, turning red.

Draco hadn't expected such a retort when he allowed himself to apologize. He would've usually gotten pissed, but he was slightly taken aback by Ron's overreaction.

"What's the matter with you," he asked, but the shooting resumed before he got his reply.

The last part of the photo shoot came to an end all too easily. Once they were finished and the staffs started clearing off the place, Ron quickly got up to his feet. After exchanging a few words with the photographer and the staffs, the redhead headed towards the exit of the room without a word or glance at Draco. Draco clicked his tongue and tried to go after him, but found himself facing a massive staff who insisted she was a great fan of his.

By the time he retreated from the bedroom and went back to the dressing room, Draco knew Ron had already left. His worn-out t-shirt, trousers and denim jacket Draco had spotted earlier were all gone.

Draco sighed. This Weasley was far more difficult than the one he'd known two years ago.

- to be continued -


	7. Chapter 7

PAIRING: Ron/Draco Slash  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

A/N: Many, many thanks to MamaLaz for her brilliant betaing.

I'm so sorry for having taken so long! Thanks so much for your reviews and comments. They mean a lot to me.

**  
Chapter 7**

Crossing the sitting room in his flat, Draco picked up a torn piece of paper from the floor. He instantly knew it was a ripped portion of the article from the Quibbler. He remembered the feeling of blood boiling up inside of him yesterday when he'd first opened the pages of this latest issue of the magazine.

As he'd heard from Blaise earlier, the issue included the second fashion feature with Ron Weasley and the German blonde model on a supposed date in Muggle London. Their riding a Muggle vehicle, Ron taking the wheel with a smug-looking blonde by his side, Draco could tolerate. Their holding hands while walking the street, Draco could cope with. However, Ron kissing the cheek of the blonde with a soft smile on his face and popcorn in his hand in a Muggle theatre was just too much. What bugged him most was that the smile seemed too natural to be forced. Apparently, Ron himself seemed to have had enjoyed the moment.

Impulsive anger towards the redhead's bad taste in witches had made Draco tear the article into pieces and then release the paperscraps above the hearth. It seemed a small piece must have escaped the flame at that time and he threw the last piece into the now cold fireplace with a bored expression on his face.

Five days had already passed since the photo shoot with Ron Weasley. Since then, he hadn't talked to him or even seen him once. Draco didn't have a clue where the former Gryffindor lived or what he was doing when he wasn't modeling. From what Ron had said, Draco knew he was renting a flat, which meant he was living on his own. Other than that, he knew nothing about his personal life.

Since the next day after their photo shoot, Draco had been making up every excuse to arrive at Blaise's office in hopes of bumping into the redhead, but this failed miserably. Finally, Blaise had asked him yesterday what he was up to. For a split second, Draco had thought of just bluntly asking Blaise to tell him where Ron lived, but had quickly thought it over.

What was he going to tell him? That he wanted to send him flowers and gifts?

Truth be told, Draco himself didn't know what he wanted to do when he had a chance to face the former Gryffindor. But one thing he knew for sure was that he needed to know why Ron had acted so standoffish all of a sudden near the end of the shooting.

Suddenly, his mind wandered to the kiss they had shared. That kiss was far from enough to soothe his hidden, repressed desire for the redhead. It just triggered his want even further. He needed more, way more.

He let out a sigh. In a day, Draco would be traveling to Milan for the runway show. He just knew that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the show if he left without talking to Ron. He had to see Ron today somehow.

Draco picked up his jacket from the arm of the sofa and put it on.

_This is definitely not stalking_, Draco said to himself silently.

---

Moments later, Draco arrived at the end of Diagon Alley with a pop. As usual, the street was bustling with activity. Draco didn't feel like entering his agency's office today, mainly because he knew that Blaise was growing suspicious of his recent odd behavior. To make matters worse, Luna seemed to have told Blaise how the photoshoot had turned out. Being mocked about that kiss was the last thing he wanted.

After staring at the entrance of the light-pink building which was his model agency in the corner of Diagon Alley, Draco looked around and entered the first shop that came into sight. The shop was full of old and shabby clothes. It was the kind of place Draco had never stepped into before.

_Draco Malfoy in a second-hand robes shop._

Shuddering slightly at the thought of being spotted by someone who knew him, he stopped in front of a clothes rack. His hands randomly searched through old robes, while his gaze was directed outside the shop window, looking for any sign of a certain redhead.

He spent the first five minutes in disappointment. He once caught a figure heading towards the model agency, but had to sigh when he noticed it was a model he wanted nothing to do with.

Another five minutes had passed, and when Draco's unconscious hands touched something exceptionally frilly, he looked down without thinking. He almost gasped. The robe he was holding was ratty, completely out of fashion, maroon-coloured, and awfully similar to the one Ron had worn at the Yule Ball many years ago. He still remembered when he'd first laid eyes on the hideous thing. It had been on the Hogwarts Express. The dress robe Ron had placed on top of his owl's cage had looked so ghastly that he couldn't help noticing and teasing the already embarrassed redhead. How he'd secretly wished he could send him a new decent robe. But when Ron had directed his whole attention to nothing else but Hermione Granger and hadn't looked twice at Draco's direction throughout the actual ball, Draco felt glad he hadn't.

Lost in his memories, he didn't notice he was being looked at until a voice called out to him, "May I help you, sir?"

Draco started slightly, then looked up to find a short middle-aged man with a curled mustache and wearing old-fashioned robes. Apparently, he must be the owner of the shop.

The short man lowered his voice with a twinkle in his eye. "Of course we do have a special vintage section in the back of the store for customers like you, sir."

There was no way Draco was going to go there for some _more_ filthy clothes and miss the opportunity to catch his quarry.

"I'm not interested," answered Draco curtly. The owner looked a little discouraged but quickly recovered.

"Excuse me, but you certainly do have a discerning eye, sir. Those dress robes...such as the ones you are clutching right now, were at the cutting edge in the 1890s and 1900s. You know what people say, that history and fashion repeat themselves? The price will soar once people reacknowledge their true value. Would you like to try it on?"

Draco stared at the owner, shocked. Try it on? Try _this _on? Draco almost screamed, _Not bloody likely_! but instead he said, "Wrap it up and send it to my flat."

Having made an unplanned purchase, Draco walked out of the shop minutes later, feeling unreasonably tired. What did he buy that tat for? Well, he could certainly show it to his former House mates and have a good laugh over it. Yes, that was it. It was definitely not because he didn't want anyone else to wear or possess what might have been once Ron's.

Draco looked at the light-pink building again and then at his watch. He'd spent less than twenty minutes inside the shop, and concluded that a clothes shop wasn't the best place to lie in wait for someone.

He looked around again and decided to go into a tea shop this time. However, as he crossed the alley, he caught glimpse of something red enter the door of the agency building. Draco felt his heart skip a beat. It must be _him_. So he finally caught him. Slowly and cautiously he approached the building. He quietly pushed open the door and entered.

The stairway was clear and silent. Draco went to the foot of the staircase and leaned against the wall. He was going to wait here until Ron was finished with his arrangement or whatever it was and corner him.

After fifteen minutes had passed, Draco was getting bored and growing curious about the talking taking place over in the office. He decided that it wouldn't hurt to stand at the top of the staircase and eavesdrop a little on their conversation. He started ascending the stairs.

Just when he was about to reach the half landing, he heard a bang of the door from the upper floor. A set of loud footsteps followed immediately afterwards, and Draco just knew who the cause of it was. He took another step upward before he reached the half landing, coming face-to-face with a flush-faced Ron. Ron looked startled, and froze, apparently not having expected to bump into someone, especially not Draco. He looked as if he didn't know what kind of face to make.

Ron wasn't the only one to be surprised. Draco was caught off guard with Ron's appearance. He had his hair cut. It wasn't that he had had long hair. It was more like he'd let it grow on its own and didn't care to have it cut. So it didn't really make much difference, but it was still apparent. Draco noted that the shorter length made him look both boyish and manly at the same time.

Draco saw Ron's eyes flick for a moment to the stairs that he just come down from, as if looking for an escape. Then realizing that the only exit from the building was the one behind Draco, he came down the remaining few steps between them. He blew his fringe up with his sigh and, without looking at Draco, tried to walk past him without a word. If having felt ignored during the last part of the photoshoot had been Draco's imagination, this certainly wasn't.

In a fit of anger, Draco grabbed Ron's arm and pushed him against the banister.

"Don't I at least deserve a hello, Weasley?" Despite the anger, Draco managed to curl the side of his mouth.

"From when have we been on hello terms?" spat out Ron, but he then held out a hand in front of Draco's face as if gesturing him to refrain from saying anything. With feigned politeness, Ron said, "Hello, how are you doing, sir?"

He then made a face as if to say_ 'satisfied?' _and tried to slip past him. That put Draco on edge. There was no way Ron was going to get away from him. Draco tightened the grip on Ron's left arm.

"What now?" said Ron with narrowed eyes.

"Seems you finally got hold of some Galleons to get a haircut. Or were you ordered by Blaise to have one?"

"Why do I have to be told by anyone to cut my own hair," said Ron.

"So you cut it without asking Blaise first," Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not. Honestly, is it wrong to do what I want to do with my appearance? Zabini tells me it is, and now you. I'm telling you, you lot are out of your minds," said Ron, looking disgusted.

Draco sported an ironic smile and shook his head lightly.

"Because we're working in a business where looks are everything. Cutting or dying hair is a big deal, Weasley. Haven't you read the contract? It clearly states that you have to consult your agent before changing your appearance, and that's not only about Transfiguring or Metamorphing."

Draco paused, expecting a retort, but all he received was an indifferent _'whatever' _from Ron.

Again, Ron shut down the conversation as if he was trying to avoid talking to Draco at all. Draco had to put all his effort into keeping his cool and keeping his voice from quavering with anger. He decided to ask straight-out.

"Why are you trying to avoid me?"

Ron looked taken aback by that and looked uncomfortable for a moment, but then scoffed.

"Don't know what you mean by that. It wasn't yesterday that I started trying to avoid you in case you haven't noticed. I've been doing it for years," said Ron in a hateful tone.

Draco was glad that the stairs were poorly lit because he felt himself growing red.

"I don't think so, Weasley. You never could ignore me, even when you could have."

Ron just shrugged and took a step to leave, pulling his arm out of Draco's grip.

Draco called out at his back, "It was just a kiss."

That seemed to do it. Ron froze in his tracks. Draco continued, "Why are you being so sensitive about it?"

It was too dim to actually see it, but Draco just knew that a deep blush was quickly spreading across the other boy's neck and cheeks.

"I'm not being sensitive about anything!" Ron said, flaring up and taking a step back towards Draco.

"Don't roar, Weasley," drawled Draco. "That'll make it all the harder to think that you're not acting like a kiss-virgin."

At this, Ron narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"Say that again and you'll be the one breaching your contract for having your face deformed without asking Zabini first."

"Well, you have to admit it's true. I bet you never had a good kiss before me, being the bad kisser you are."

Huffing, Ron said, "I am not! Just shut up, Malfoy!"

Draco smirked. "You are not _what_?"

"A bad kisser"

Draco chuckled.

"But you sure acted like one, just sitting there expectantly, waiting for me to do all the work."

Draco knew he hit the spot. Ron grabbed Draco's collar and shoved him against the wall.

"That's because I was in no mood for a kiss with _you_ ," hissed Ron with rage.

Feeling Ron's hot breath against his face and seeing his eyes flash dark-blue in close proximity, Draco licked his lips.

"So are you implying that you're a good kisser then? I don't believe you, Weasley, unless you-"

The next moment, Draco's view was blocked. It took a while for him to register what was happening. Then it gradually dawned on him that his lips were covered with Ron's and that Ron's hand was cupping his cheek. So unlike Ron's temper, the kiss was slow and acutely sensual, turning Draco on immediately. Now if Ron released the hand on Draco's collar which was mildly suffocating him, it would've been even better.

The tip of Ron's tongue touched Draco's, and the blond couldn't hold back a moan. Draco held out a hand to draw him closer to tangle their tongues, but Ron pulled back all of a sudden. Draco immediately looked up at the redhead disbelievingly and accusingly for stopping the kiss there, but the other boy had already looked away. Draco could tell Ron was turning crimson and looking like he was fucked up, as if regretting for having acted on the spur of the moment.

After running his hands through his hair nervously, the redhead quickly went to the door and opened it. Without looking back he said, "I just wanted you to take back what you've said about me was all," before stepping out of the door. A second later, the cracking sound of Apparition was heard.

Draco growled in frustration. He wanted to kick something, hard. A dust bin full of rubbish would be good, but he couldn't find any. As he went outside, he could feel his bulge between his legs and swore inside. The redhead was such a tease. But he secretly had to admit that the kiss was worth all the waiting he'd been put through.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

PAIRING: Ron/Draco Slash  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
A/N: Many, many thanks to Pinkdragyn042 for the brilliant beta work.

I'm so sorry I hadn't updated this fic for almost half a year! I hope someone is still interested.  
Thanks so much for the comments. Diosa, I think I'll stick with Draco's POV. I think writing in Ron's POV might be sort of a giveaway. Thanks for asking!

**Chapter 8**

Draco looked himself in the mirror as the stylist adjusted his robes. It was the third day of the show here in Milan. Shortly, Draco would be walking down the runway for the first time that day for one of the most fast-rising designers in Europe. A moderate sense of tension and concentration were what he needed.

_Don't think about it_, hesaid silently to his reflection in the mirror. Lately, he'd been losing his peace of mind. He remembered that he'd felt at least a bit more secure and calm a couple of months ago - before running into Ron again after two years, that is.

Draco sighed. If he allowed himself to ruminate too much on the almost sweet encounter he had had with the redhead three days ago, heat would start rising up his body, and an unwanted tinge of pink would crawl up his cheeks. That would ruin his cool, beautiful look.

After he had met and _kissed _Ron in the dimly lit staircase of his model agency building, he wasn't supposed to have so much time to think back on what had happened. He had to pack his things and take the cross-border Portkey to Milan. He had checked into the _Candele Incantate_, a wizarding hotel in the center of the city. Then he had to attend the rehearsal for the shows he was to be in, for fourteen different designers for four consecutive days.

It wasn't a problem when he was kept occupied, but when he inadvertently let his guard down, that memory would creep into the narrow crevice of his mind and penetrate through him, whether he liked it or not.

Usually, traveling to places like Milan or Paris was his favorite part of the job. He enjoyed the cuisine and he liked the different interior styles of the suites he stayed in. But this time, he couldn't help feeling that he'd left something behind, and it made him feel restless. It didn't help that various questions whirled in his mind.

Draco knew exactly who to blame. Ron had said it was to prove that he wasn't a bad kisser that he'd kissed Draco. _But seriously, would you ever kiss someone, especially of the same gender, if you didn't feel at least a tiny bit of attraction towards that person?_

This thought brought sweet hopes to him. He would have to find out about this when he was done with the show. Two more days to go, and he'd be Portkeying straight back to London.

The change of background music heard from the venue brought the blond back to reality. It was the start of the show.

Walking down the long runway with other models following, Draco was showered with flashes of lights from the cameras. He felt all eyes on him, as the soft silk fabric of his white shirt and black trousers caressed his skin. Draco swore that wizard clothes these days were getting a lot simpler and functional than ten years ago. They looked almost similar to Muggle clothes, like the ones Ron had worn for the Quibbler, tight and loose in all the right places. Draco bit his bottom lip. Now was not the right time to think about that.

It was always the audience who turned their faces to Draco, and not he to them. However, that didn't mean he was unconscious to the people who came to see the show or to their responses. He would take in the faces of the audience from the corner of his eye, all the while keeping his face expressionless. It was rare that anything or anyone, even the influential and well-known faces in the fashion industry, would actually catch his attention.

When Draco turned and changed his direction at the end of the runway, he caught a glimpse of something red near the distant wall. Draco dared to look. He felt his heart give a throb. It was none other than Ron Weasley. He was standing at the back of the venue, just in front of the wall, arms crossed.

When their eyes met, Ron raised an eyebrow. That small gesture of acknowledgement sent shivers down Draco's spine. Not allowing himself to show any signs of shock on his face, he walked back to the runway entrance, heading backstage.

_What is he doing here?_

He needed to ask Blaise, _now_, but of course, there wasn't any time or means to Floo him in the middle of a show. He was to quickly change into his second outfit, and after that, he had to have his hair and makeup all redone for a different designer.

Holding back the uneasy feeling, Draco walked down the catwalk several more times that day, and every time he came closest to where Ron stood, he had to make sure to avoid looking at the redhead.

When the show was finally over for the day, Draco strode straight back to the backstage area. He felt adrenaline rush through him.

_Why didn't Blaise tell me that he was sending Weasley in? _Draco couldn't help suspecting that Blaise knew everything and that he was secretly enjoying Draco's reaction to all this.

Pissed, he walked up to his clothes rack to change, but was blocked by a familiar figure. This time, he was not surprised by the sudden appearance of another unexpected wizard. Draco looked daggers at the cause of his irritation.

"Blaise. I thought you had meetings you couldn't miss in London."

Blaise raised his eyebrows, as if to say he had no clue as to why Draco was in such a foul mood. "I did. But it's all settled. You know I have to make sure my boys are doing alright."

"Does that include Weasley?" spat out Draco.

"Oh, you met him already, have you. Actually, he Portkeyed here with me just an hour ago." Blaise gave a vague smile.

"What did you bring _that_ for? Don't tell me he's in the show." Draco couldn't even try to hide the aggravation in his voice.

"He's not. At least not in this one. I just wanted to show him around so he gets an idea of what it's like to be in a show, because you know, he'll be doing it himself sometime soon. And there are people I want him to meet. Connections are always important."

"That is an utter waste of Galleons," snapped Draco.

"It's called investment."

Draco looked up at Blaise, eyebrows knitted together. "Do you seriously think he's worth it?"

"Yeah, I do. And it's not just for him, you know, the reason I brought him here? I thought you'd be more pleased."

Draco saw Blaise's eyes twinkle mischievously. Now there was no doubt as to what Draco'd been dreading. He hated it when people thought they could play an ickle cupid or a matchmaker or whatever they wanted to call themselves.

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Draco, before taking off his jacket and starting to change. He was in no mood to be teased by Blaise. Just as he threw the jacket randomly on the rack, he heard Blaise say, "You don't?"

When Draco lifted his chin up to give a sharp glare at Blaise, his eyes caught something red over Blaise's shoulder. The said redhead was standing near one of the exits, talking with an unfamiliar guy who was almost as tall as Ron. From his posture and what he was wearing, Draco could tell that he, too, was a model. Draco didn't like the slick black hair nor the amiable smile plastered on the guy's face at all. In Draco's eyes, the bloke looked as if he was batting his eyelashes at Ron in a way that could be called _overly flirting_.

Completely forgetting about Blaise and the conversation he was having with him, Draco took big strides towards the two. He made a sudden stop in front of the two lads, causing the redhead to look up and mouth 'Malfoy,' wide-eyed. Draco ignored the "Hey, it was a great show today" said to him in an Italian accent from the other model, and scowled at Ron.

"Are you aware that you're blocking the exit, Weasley? How dense can you get, idiot?"

Even as he said that, Draco couldn't help noticing that Ron looked a bit more stylish each time he saw him. Maybe it had to do something with the way he wore his hair, or the new clothes he earned from modeling. Anyway, it was disturbing. It wasn't right for a Weasel to look stylish.

Ron, after blinking once, said a small 'Oh' and stepped to the side. Seeing that the redhead still didn't seem to leave the spot, Draco got even more pissed.

"Weasel, you better go back to Blaise, NOW. He's been looking for you. He didn't bring you all the way to Milan so that you could pick up blokes."

Of course Draco knew that it was the Italian guy who was trying to hit on Ron, but he also knew how to push the redhead's buttons. Not surprisingly, Ron turned crimson, flicking a flustered glance at the Italian model. "What?! I was not-"

Draco quickly retreated before Ron could complete his sentence, knowing that the redhead would follow him.

"Malfoy, you twat! You just made him think I'm a queer."

Draco smirked as he walked, hearing Ron's voice from behind, and glanced over his shoulder.

"Well, you sure look like one," he said, and turned back front. He could hear Ron practically huffing.

"I. DO. NOT, flasher."

"What?" Draco asked back.

"I said _FLASHER_. Did you know you're unnecessarily showing yourself off?"

Draco looked down at himself. _Oh_. He'd forgotten he was in the middle of changing. All the buttons on his shirt were open, showing his bare chest. It was nothing. Naked models were seen everywhere backstage, constantly changing their clothes. But apparently, Ron wasn't used to this.

"Like what you see, Weasley?" Draco gave his best smirk to Ron. The other boy quickly made an exaggerated disgusted face.

"Do us a favour and button your shirt before you get arrested on obscenity charges, Malfoy. Where's Zabini anyway?"

Ron started looking around, and Draco then noticed that Blaise wasn't where he had been a couple of minutes ago.

"Do you know where Blaise has gone? He's the guy who's been talking to me just a while ago," asked Draco to the make-up staff who'd been pointing her wand at the vanity and putting the cosmetics back in a box.

"Oh, I saw him leave with another man," she said, slightly smiling when she realized who the inquirer was. Seeing Draco's questioning look, she then added, "He seemed like an editor."

That was when it clicked to him that Blaise had probably set it up. Draco clicked his tongue. He wished that Blaise would just leave him alone.

When he looked back at Ron, the redhead was looking at him reproachfully.

"And you said he was looking for me," said Ron. "You know what, Malfoy? This is not the first time you lied to me that Zabini wanted to see me."

Draco knew Ron was talking about the excuse he had made up when the redhead was about to get sexually harassed, unknowingly, by the infamous Terry Boot some time ago.

"Don't you call me a liar, Weasel. He really was looking for you. Don't you know he has other priorities over you?" Draco retorted.

"Whatever. Doesn't make any difference that he's not here. I'm getting out of here and going straight to bed. That git routed me out of bed and forced me to take the bloody Portkey here."

With that, the redhead turned on his heels to leave. Draco quickly grabbed his arm.

"Do you even know where you're going?"

"What do you mean _do I know where I'm going_? Of course I do. I'm going straight to the hotel and-"

Ron stopped in mid-sentence and turned slightly pale. Draco sighed. He remembered Blaise had said that he and Ron had taken the cross-border Portkey straight to this place just an hour ago. Draco guessed it right that Ron didn't know which hotel he was supposed to be staying at, if Blaise had remembered to book a room for him, that is.

"You, wait there till I get dressed." Draco pointed at the spot Ron was standing. He heard the redhead groan.

- TBC -


	9. Chapter 9

PAIRING: Ron/Draco Slash  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
Beta: A huge thank you to Pinkdragyn042. 

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read and reviewed the previous chapter(s). I think there will be two more chapters to this story (not including this one).

**Chapter 9**

Right across from Draco, with a small candle between them, a sleepy-eyed Ron was sitting with his chin in one hand. They were sitting at one of the tables by the window, inside Draco's favourite restaurant in the wizarding area of Milan.

Draco could have taken Ron straight to the hotel for check-in, but he didn't feel like granting the other boy's demand so easily, and thought that a little night out couldn't hurt. Draco had to have dinner at some point anyway.

It was a cold evening, but it was pleasantly warm inside. The lit-up Duomo, a huge religious structure built by the Muggles some hundreds of years ago, could be seen from almost every window on their side. Draco secretly thought that some of the Muggle architecture weren't that bad, especially when the steeples and the walls were lit up after dusk, engulfing the city with its enchanting lights. However, the other boy, who'd been rubbing his eyes and yawning now and then, had been breaking any romantic atmosphere, if there were any chance for such thing to exist.

Ron had brought with him a grey sack that very much looked like an old rag, which now rested on the floor beside his chair. Draco guessed that it probably contained the redhead's change, but he was too scared to confirm his guess. He didn't want to think that anything curled up and crumpled in such a dirty piece of cloth belonged to someone involved in fashion, especially a model. Ron had said before that he got some free promotional outfits after a photo shoot. Hadn't those people cared to give him any decent bags?

"Have you ever heard of manners, Weasley?" said Draco, rolling his eyes, after Ron let out a yawn for the umpteenth time.

Ron temporarily opened his eyes wide and glared at the blond.

"Didn't I say I needed to go straight to bed?"

The words '_I didn't know you were that eager to get into bed with me, Weasley,_' welled up in Draco's throat, but he managed to drown them.

Instead, he said, "You know, I'm thoroughly surprised that you almost tried to decline an offer of a free meal."

Draco had told Ron that the bill was on the agency. Actually, it wasn't, but he knew that the redhead wouldn't be able to afford a single item on the menu, and that he was too proud to have Draco pay for him.

Ron said, glaring at Draco, "I've told you I'm not in the mood for a meal. I've only had two hours of sleep."

The emphasis on the lack of sleep had been bothering Draco for the past thirty minutes, _a lot_. Draco very much wanted to know why he was in such a sleepy state, and if he had stayed out late alone or with someone.

"I'm impressed, Weasley, that's just about the amount of sleep a model needs, ideal for your skin, really," said Draco, with much sarcasm in his voice. "What was worth the bags under your eyes? Don't you know those things can make you jobless?"

That was the best Draco could ask.

After a slight shrug, Ron said, "You have them too, Malfoy, _Bags_. You're hiding them well, but I can still see them."

He was peering at Draco with his chin still in his hand. Draco felt himself tremble, half from anger and half from something else.

How dare he point out Draco's bags under his eyes, and whose bloody fault did he think they were? If Ron hadn't popped back into Draco's life and messed with him, Draco wouldn't have suffered from this insomnia of late. Then again, he felt a sense of sweet thrill for the fact that Ron had been watching him close enough to notice the bags under his eyes.

Just then, the waiter brought the two glasses and a bottle of white wine Draco had ordered. It was a rich, vintage wine, which probably cost more than Ron's family home, furniture included. Draco thought that a little dose of alcohol might help diminish the awkwardness he had been feeling between them all evening.

The waiter uncorked the bottle, and poured the transparent liquid into their glasses. Once he left, Draco lifted the glass in front of him and took a sip. Ron, after a pause, followed suite. From the subtle change of expression on the redhead's face, Draco knew that he liked what he'd tasted.

_Who wouldn't, especially if the best you could afford was probably unfermented grape juice?_

Draco chuckled low.

Ron placed the glass back down and said, "What?"

"Nothing," answered back Draco.

"_What?_"said Ron, a little more insistently this time.

Draco rolled his eyes, but then it struck on him that maybe now was the right time to make things clear. He wanted to find out the true reason of Ron's kiss that had taken him by surprise at their model agency's staircase just a few days ago. There had to be one, and depending on Ron's answer, who knew, that feature article of the Quibbler they had done a photo shoot for might as well turn out to be true.

After slightly shifting his position on the seat, he said, trying to sound as casual as possible, "Why did you do what you did the other day, Weasley?"

Ron looked puzzled at the sudden question from Draco. He then narrowed his eyes.

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

However, it seemed to have dawned on him as soon as he said it, because Draco could see a tinge of red creep up his neck and onto his cheeks. Draco was certain it wasn't because of the alcohol. He raised his eyebrows, amused.

"I, that was-" Ron looked away and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

The waiter chose that moment to bring the first appetizer, followed by various other dishes, and Draco cursed under his breath. Ron looked keen on forgetting the conversation they had just been having, and started attacking the plates.

Ron said, between his bites, "Malfoy, you must've ordered too many appetizers."

"No, these are the main dishes," drawled Draco, languidly.

Ron looked up from his plate.

"But they can't be. All we have are leaves, grain, and some tomatoes. They're ok, but doesn't a wizard need something a little more filling? Add to that, this is my first meal of the day."

Draco rolled his eyes again.

"They're tomatoes with mozzarella, salads with arugula, basil, olives, and herb risotto, Weasley. If you're expecting something like pasta or pizza or anything with meat, we're not having them. You're even lucky to have rice on this table, because in case you don't know, a model is not supposed to take excessive amount of carbohydrates."

Ron looked at Draco in shock, and said, "Great. Here I am in Italy for the first time, and all I get is this miserable dinner ordered by a prissy colleague."

Draco looked coldly at the other boy and said, "It's no surprise to me that you've completely forgotten all your boasts about professionalism. Just shut up and eat. The sooner you eat, the sooner you'll be able to go to bed."

The redhead looked disgruntled, but to Draco's surprise, he started to tuck in the food on his plate.

Taking a few bites from his own plate, Draco asked, "Like it, Weasley?"

Ron glanced at Draco but didn't say anything. He downed what remained in his glass, which quickly refilled itself.

For the next couple of minutes, silence fell on their table, except for the soft clattering of their knives and forks, and Ron's munching. Draco considered this a good chance to resume the earlier conversation.

"You still haven't answered my question, Weasel," said Draco.

"Yes, I love the grass and the weed and all the other healthy stuff," answered Ron curtly, not lifting his eyes from his plate of salad.

"Not that, idiot. Why did you kiss me the other day?" Owing to the effect of the wine, the words flowed easily out of Draco's mouth.

Ron choked on his salad. After a fit of coughing, he glared at Draco with watery eyes.

"Merlin, do you have to bring that up again? I've been trying to seal that horrid memory and been succeeding." Ron's ears were turning crimson.

_Horrid memory? Did he just call it horrid memory? _Draco had recalled that _horrid_ memory in his mind at least a hundred times, and that, willingly. He clenched his fist under the table.

"Poor you, you don't know how lucky you are. Anyone would give anything to get near enough to me to allow such intimate contact."

It wasn't all big talk. Draco had been offered various propositions from both genders, which caused him a bit of trouble to decline.

"Then I guess I'm not anyone, am I? And I _have_ told you the reason," said Ron, matter-of-factly, not looking at Draco's face.

"To prove that you're not a bad kisser? Did you think you actually had me convinced?" Draco managed to put on a sneer, despite the irritation that was swelling inside him.

"It's not my problem that you're frigid."

Draco almost spit out the olive in his mouth. Apparently, Draco didn't have such a problem, since his certain body part did react to that simple kiss instantly. But come to think of it, it hadn't been that good a kiss. After all, it didn't take much for the other boy to make Draco aroused. Even a peck on the cheek would have sufficed to give him a hard-on. So technically, Ron still hadn't proved that he was a good kisser.

In any case, there was no way that Draco was going to admit to Ron that he'd _liked_ the kiss. He was even starting to regret to have bothered trying to have a decent, even romantic, dinner with him. The conversation was heading nowhere near what Draco had been anticipating. If they went on like this, Draco might end up losing his temper, and throwing wine over Ron's head. He'd rather not make such a racket in public. He thought he might as well leave this place, _and_ the redhead, _with_ the bill. However, if the other boy begged him not to leave him behind, Draco might be generous enough to forgive all his rudeness, but with certain conditions of course.

When Draco threw his napkin on the table and stood up, he spotted a familiar face outside the glass front doors of the restaurant, just about to come inside. He was a young wizard in his mid-twenties, with curly brown hair and an upturned nose. He was dressed as a tourist, but Draco recognised him at once as a paparazzo. He'd once taken a picture of Draco and a female fan who'd come to him for an autograph. It had been published in a gossip magazine a week later with a story that was completely fabricated. Draco still remembered the nausea he'd felt for having been rumoured to be dating a witch who wasn't even that attractive. What if _someone_ who had happened to lay eyes on the magazine took it for real?

Draco quickly took out some Italian wizarding coins and put them on the table, grabbed hold of Ron's arm and pulled him up. He heard Ron say, 'What's the matter with you?' but didn't answer. Draco pushed the other boy towards the back of the restaurant, all the while making sure the paparazzo couldn't see Ron's face. He'd even managed to pick up the miserable sack from the floor in the process.

There were still a couple of weeks before the issue of the Quibbler with him and Ron in it, and now was not a good time at all to be photographed together. It would completely ruin the impact of the feature, and Blaise would not be happy.

Draco led Ron out the back door, into a cold alley.

"What's your problem, Malfoy? You might've been through with your austere diet meal, but I wasn't even close to finishing."

Rolling his eyes at Ron, Draco made sure no one was out there, and cupped Ron's elbow to Side-Along Apparate. Next moment they were in front of the back door of an ancient classic building.

It was one of the richest wizarding hotels in Italy, the _Candele Incantate_. Draco walked in front of the brick wall, and tapped it with his wand, muttering a short spell. Within seconds, a door revealed itself. After another spell, the heavy door opened. It was a secret entrance prepared by the hotel for guests who needed to enter unnoticed from others. Draco pushed the redhead inside.

Inside the door was a deserted hall that lead to the reception and lounge. Although the rooms couldn't be seen from where they were standing, it was evident from the decor that the place was rich and classy. The wall was lined with floating candle holders with long thin candles, and there was an elegant candle chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Draco sighed at the clueless looking Ron. "There was a Paparazzo, thickhead."

The other boy still looked confused, so after another sigh, Draco explained, "They want pictures of me with anyone, male or female, so they can sell them to the tabloids. They follow me wherever I go, those paparazzi scum."

Seeing Ron's horrified face, Draco added, "That's the price you pay for being a top model, Weasley."

"That's insane," was all Ron said, brows furrowed. He looked a little dazed, probably from the sudden Apparition and too much wine.

"You wait here. I'm going over to the reception to fetch my key and see if they have a room available for you," said Draco, handing over the dirty bag to Ron. Ron just nodded.

When Draco came back with a single key in his hand, not even having bothered to ask if they had another available room, Ron was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets and eyes closed. He was dozing.

_He had to be used to sleeping while standing, what with the tiny space he must have had at his family home - the Creep Hole, or the Burrow, or whatever it was called._

Then, Draco had to wonder if this was the same boy who'd gone searching for the Horcruxes with Potter and Granger two years ago, and had survived the battle against the dark side. The redhead in front of him looked too vulnerable for all that. Or was it that he was letting his guard down in front of Draco?

Draco walked closer to him until the tips of their noses almost touched. He could hear the soft breathing sound of the other boy sleeping. Ron's fringe was falling into his eye, and his crimson eyelashes cast dark shadows down his cheeks. All these made Draco's heart pound faster. He slid his hands on either side of Ron's waist and whispered into his ear.

"This isn't your bedroom, Weasley."

There was a short 'Humph' from Ron.

The warmth reaching Draco's hands through the redhead's cotton shirt was inviting and making him warm, and he couldn't hold himself from leaning in and placing his lips on Ron's. The redhead tasted of alcohol.

There was no reaction from the other boy, so Draco continued kissing. It was like relishing his favourite wine, but so much more. Then, for a split-second, Draco thought the other boy was kissing back, but before finding out whether it was his imagination or not, there was a sudden jerk under his arms, and he was roughly pushed back.

Ron looked suddenly awake, though his cheeks were still flushed from the wine.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?!"

Draco let out a quick smirk. "It's still hard to believe that you're a good kisser, Weasley. Why don't you vindicate yourself now?"

He leaned in once again and lightly bumped their foreheads, ready for another kiss. However, to Draco's dismay, the redhead brought his hand to his mouth and said in a weak tone, "I think I need to puke."

Draco gritted his teeth.

---

Five minutes later, Ron came out of the rest room, wiping his splashed face with his sleeve and looking exhausted. Draco had been waiting in the same hall, arms folded, and angry for at being interrupted. What was upsetting was that he was still hoping that they could continue what they had been about to start, even after Ron had puked.

However, the first thing Ron said was, "I need to go to bed. Give me the key for my room."

_Such a demanding git. _So Draco passed the only key he had.

He followed Ron from behind, up the lift to the fifth floor, to the front of the door of the suite. Before slipping the key into the lock, Ron finally looked back. He cocked an eyebrow at Draco, looking puzzled.

"It's alright, Malfoy. You can go to your room now."

"This is _my_ room, Weasley. Blaise hadn't bothered to book a room for you. Do thank your luck that I'm generous enough to let you share my room with you when I could be having the place for myself."

Seeing Ron's baffled look, Draco chuckled inwardly to himself.

"I don't believe this," said Ron, hitting the door with his knuckle. He then muttered under his breath about sending Blaise a Howler combined with a renovated Dungbomb, a new product invented by the Weasley twins.

He then abruptly turned his face towards Draco and said, "I'm not sharing a room with you."

Draco sighed and snatched the key away from Ron. "Don't expect you can book another room here or elsewhere tonight. I'm sure they're all full. If you prefer to spend the night out on the streets, that's perfectly fine with me."

Draco pushed Ron aside from the door and placed the key into the keyhole. As he twisted the key with one hand, he unfolded the Italian evening newspaper he'd received at the reception desk with his other hand.

"Hmm, an unregistered werewolf on the loose, witnessed by Muggles in Genova. That's not very far from here, is it?"

Pushing the door open, he gave a glance at Ron and said, "See you tomorrow then, Weasley."

He felt a strong pull on his shoulder.

"Alright, I guess I can use the sofa."

Draco turned to find Ron with a sheepish grin on his face. Draco hated himself for thinking it looked cute.

---

"Hey, you should've told me there are two bedrooms," said Ron reproachfully, opening whatever door he could find.

"The smaller room is for a _servant_ or a house elf, so I thought you'd mind."

Draco put extra stress on '_servant_,' at a weak attempt to say something provocative and make the other boy not want to take the said room. His plan didn't work.

Ron gave a sharp look at Draco, but without a word, he stepped inside the smaller room and said, "Well, good night, then," and shut the door in front of Draco's face.

Mouth agape, Draco was fully taken aback by Ron's rudeness.

_No one - I mean no one shuts a door in my face. Somebody, please teach him a lesson._

But if anybody was to get near the redhead as to teach him a lesson, Draco knew that it had to be him. Walking over to his own larger bedroom, Draco sighed at the prospect of having to endure another sleepless night.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

PAIRING: Ron/Draco Slash  
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
Beta: Another huge thank you to Pinkelephant.

A/N Again, I'm really sorry for not updating this story for so long. This will probably be the second to last chapter of this story.  
Thanks for all the kind comments for the previous chapter. Moonlight, louis89, DigitalAngel4U, cajun cat, d-gurl, tigerteen500, penpencilwhatever, wordsweweave, talley67, your comments made me really happy. SanzoGirl, thanks for leaving a comment for every chapter. Optimistic girl94, your comment made me giggle madly. _Woah. Calm down Malfoy. Calm down. jeez. _Lol, I loved that.

**Chapter 10**

Draco reluctantly opened his eyes when he could no longer ignore the sun ray leaking in through the gap of the closed curtains. He peered at the clock on the bedside table. It was almost seven.

The last time he remembered looking at the clock, the hour hand had been pointing four. He must at last have fallen asleep some time after that.

As Draco pulled the blanket over himself, closing his eyes again, he soon remembered that Ron was sleeping in the next room. Or was he really? Besides the light rustling of his own bed sheet, silence seemed to penetrate the place.

After a moment's pause, Draco roughly pulled the blanket off of him. Getting on his feet, he wrapped himself in a gown over his silk pajamas, and soon found himself standing in front of Ron's bedroom. After a second's hesitation, he rapped on the door.

"Weasley?"

When there was no answer, Draco opened the door, only to confirm his suspicion. The sight of the empty room made his insides deflate. Ron was nowhere to be seen. Only the mess of the bed told him that the boy seemed to have slept there.

Draco looked around, then opened the wardrobe. Finding some of Ron's crumpled belongings and feeling relieved that the other boy hadn't completely left the place, he sat down on the armchair with a sigh.

_Couldn't he at least have left a note or something?_

As Draco shifted in the chair, he felt a damp towel behind his back and pulled it out. A single red hair on it attracted his attention. He tried to pick it, but quickly withdrew his fingers. _No_. He was definitely not going to allow himself to act like a pervert and try to keep the hair, let alone bring the towel under his nose to sniff it. With a bit of extra force, he dropped the towel on the floor.

_There you go_.

Draco smiled triumphantly.

---

After a fresh morning shower and a light breakfast, Draco Apparated in front of an ancient Italian castle, which was the venue of the day. The historic castle stood majestically against the clear blue sky, in a verdant countryside some miles away from Milan. It was one of Draco's favourite venues; a fine place with high ceilings and windows, and now refurbished so that its decor was in amalgamation of classic and modern.

Entering through the double doors after password security check and heading backstage, Draco was soon surrounded by familiar faces, including photographers, journalists, staffs and fellow models. It made no difference whether he was in London or Milan to be treated like this. Smiling and nodding but not really focusing on any of the light conversation he was having with them, Draco was checking to see if a certain redhead had arrived. It was high time for a fledgling model like him to be there, before the _celebrities_ arrived. Blaise had to have taught him at least that.

The place was bustling with everyone getting prepared for the last day of the shows, but one quick scan through the crowd told Draco that Ron wasn't there. It was hard to tell if the redhead was just late, being his lazy self, or if he was back to avoiding Draco yet again. His hunch told him it was the latter.

Draco felt more than a little miffed, but he didn't have much time to dwell on the annoyance. In no time he was greeted and accompanied by a make-up artist, who took him in front of a vanity mirror. Draco sat in the seat without a word and let the artist start with whatever she wanted to do with his appearance. To show her that he was in no mood for talking, Draco reached for his planner so that he could pretend to look occupied. However, before he could even touch it, he was interrupted by Blaise's cheery voice.

"Morning, Draco. Just the perfect day to wrap up the shows here, isnt't it?"

Draco could see a meaningful smile on Blaise's face reflected in the mirror, and not eager to know the meaning of it, he just snorted.

Not seeming put off by this behaviour, Blaise continued, smirking wider, "Well?"

"Well what?" answered Draco, without looking at Blaise.

"You know what I'm talking about. How did it go last-"

"Say. No. More." Draco interrupted him with a murderous side-glance glare.

Blaise, who quickly seemed to have caught on, said uncomfortably, "Er...where is he anyway?"

"Like I would know," spat out Draco.

Blaise now seemed to be at a loss for words, but then, his name was called out from the other side of the room. Both boys turned their heads to find a model from their agency who looked like his hair had been set fire. A shocked looking hair stylist was standing right behind his chair, her wand pointing weakly in the air. When the model gestured Blaise to come over, he looked overly eager to comply.

Left alone in company with just a rabbit-toothed brunette who reminded him strangely of Theodore Nott, but in a female version, Draco let out a small sigh.

The make-up artist resumed flicking her wand, first pointing it at Draco's under-eyes, apparently to see which concealer suited him best to hide the dark circles. Draco started tapping the table with his fingernails, blankly looking into the mirror in front of him, but not to check his own reflection. He had a whole show waiting for him, and there wasn't supposed to be any room to worry about Ron's whereabouts. But he couldn't help getting jumpy and jerk at any small noise, and the others' laughing voices that got on his nerves.

The make-up witch now looked very nervous. There was no mistake Draco was making her task harder. When the self-applying eyeliner almost poked Draco in the eye, he turned around to glower at the witch, which caused her to drop the bottle of foundation she was holding. It was when she bent down to pick it up that Draco caught a glimpse of red among the throng of wizards and robes.

Ron Weasley looked as if he had just entered the room and didn't know where he should go. Draco narrowed his eyes. Ron's cheeks looked flushed, hair ruffled, like as if he just had a good morning walk in the park. Draco stood out of his chair, murmuring to the make-up witch, "I'll be right back."

His quick strides brought him face to face with the redhead in a few seconds. He heard himself say before realizing it, "Where have you been? _Sightseeing_?"

Ron scowled. "Does it matter to you?"

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, you're late, Weasley."

"Late, am I? I'm not even in the show, for Merlin's sake. Seriously, Malfoy, do you have to nag about everything I do? You're not even my agent."

That did it. Draco stepped closer to the other boy so that their noses almost touched.

"You don't understand. You can't just come and see the shows when you want to. They're not open to just anyone, anytime. You should feel lucky that you're here at all, so don't take it for granted. And do try not to take it personally, Weasley. I'm just saying this for Blaise's sake, because he sometimes has too much on his plate to babysit each one of you novices."

By the end of Draco's spluttering, Ron had turned a shade of red, his hands curled into fists. Draco expected Ron's retort, but it didn't come. The redhead broke eye contact and said, "You know what? You're probably right."

"What?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at this unusual behaviour of the other boy.

"What is wrong with you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer, but pointed his chin somewhere behind Draco's head. "Malfoy, I think she needs you."

"Who?" Draco turned his neck halfway to find a desperate looking female-version of Nott.

"I'm terribly sorry but we're seriously running out of time," she said through short breaths.

Clicking his tongue, Draco turned back to Ron.

"I need a word with you, Weasley, after the show," he spat out, pointing his finger at Ron's face, and went back to his seat.

---

The actual show took place in a spacious hall which once seemed to have been used as a ball room. A single long runway ran through the vast room, with spectator seats set up on both sides.

Draco's first appearance in the show was set for shortly after the start. When he first made his way through the watching audience, it wasn't exactly hard to spot Ron at the very back of the premise. He was standing behind the seats, against the white pillar, with one hand on his chin and the other on his elbow. Draco thought their eyes met for a split second, but the next time he had the chance to steal a glance, the other boy seemed to be looking at a different direction.

The third and last outfit chosen for Draco was one of the most elegant and stylish dress robes he had ever laid hands on, and worth topping off the show. It was a long robe made from silk and satin, which created a gradation of dark grey shadows as he moved, and it brought out great contrast with the glowing white dress shirt he wore underneath. It was even better than the graceful high-collar party robe he had worn at the Yull Ball during his Hogwarts years. Had he worn this one at that time, he would've even made the four school champions and their partners look dull. _Even a certain someone would have stopped staring at the Mudblood._

Not surprisingly, gasps of admiration were heard from the audience, as Draco walked into the spotlight. He could tell that every face was now looking in his direction, including Ron's.

After walking a lap and disappearing backstage, he recognized the success of the show from the huge applause coming from behind him.

---

When Draco arrived backstage, it was full of excitement and relief that the shows were over. The designer himself came to Draco to thank him for helping bring success to his show. Couple of hours later, there would be an after-party at a club in midtown, where most of the witches and wizards involved in the fashion week would be showing up. It was the most efficient behind-the-scenes opportunity to expand business connections.

But before that, Draco had a couple of magazine interviews and photo sessions to get through, and wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Ron. He had to make sure that Blaise would be on the lookout for him. Draco didn't like his ex-Slytherin mate being nosy about him, but at the same time, he was half glad that he didn't have to be too secretive in front of him anymore. Speaking of which, where was Blaise?

Draco looked round and soon found Blaise and Ron in conversation with a man whom he recognized as the chief executive of an Italian casual wear retailer. From the looks of it, Ron was probably being asked about his model experience, or furthermore, to be in their advertisement. He looked pleased with himself, even putting a diplomatic smile on his face. So he knew how to smile to strangers, even though he didn't seem to know how to smile to his own colleague.

Blaise had brought Ron to Italy to introduce him to the right people. As Blaise had hoped, someone found the redhead attractive enough to advertise for them. Good for Blaise, good for Weasley. Then why was this sour feeling suddenly taking over him? Draco didn't like it; Ron meeting new people. He didn't like the idea that someone else found the redhead attractive. He liked to think that his taste in blokes was unique, and had been having a secret pleasure in thinking that he was the only one who found Ron alluring. But next season, Ron might be walking down that very runway, exposed to many more eyes...

"Mr. Malfoy."

Draco was broken from his stupor. A witch wearing narrow red-framed glasses was standing in front of him, and next to her was a bearded wizard holding a camera in his hands. The young witch introduced herself to be an editor of a French fashion magazine. Draco remembered that she had asked him for a short interview after the show.

After giving Draco some compliments, she suggested they move over to one of the lounges for the interview. Unable to find any reason to postpone it, Draco obliged and followed her. He took one last glance at the three, and was able to catch Blaise's eye this time. Draco momentarily flicked his gaze at Ron, then looked back at Blaise and winked. Draco hoped Blaise would take the hint.

---

When Draco finally came back to his suite at _Candele Incantate_, it was nearly two in the morning. It was a tremendously long day for him, and all the day's events had worn him out. After the tiring interviews, he had Disapparated to Milan and had gone to the after-party a little late. He had soon found Blaise near the center of the dance floor, dancing very close to a slender model-like girl and whispering something in her ear that made her giggle.

Just the sight of them had told Draco that he had been wrong to depend on Blaise to keep an eye on Ron. After all, Blaise was only twenty, just like himself and Ron, and it had been rather a long time since he last had a girlfriend. He found out later, once Blaise reluctantly disengaged himself from the witch, that he had told Ron to come to the after-party, but lost track of him in the chaos of witches and wizards Apparating and Disapparating from the show venue.

As far as Blaise and Draco knew, Ron hadn't come to the party at all. Draco couldn't help but feel uneasy about why he hadn't come, and where he could have gone, but he hadn't really been complaining. He didn't fancy some flirtatious models messing with Ron. Yet he had felt slightly disappointed, for it was a good chance to show off a bit of his popularity among the fashion clan to the other boy, and make him realize what he didn't seem to appreciate enough.

Draco finally managed to leave the party, but only after accepting many of the drinks he had been offered. He didn't feel drunk, but his vision was rather blurry and his head dizzy, making him lucky to have Apparated back to the hotel on his first try.

Draco squinted his eyes as he stepped inside his suite. The entrance was dimly lit with a single candle placed on the side table, and he could barely make out the door to Ron's bedroom, which was tightly shut.

He walked up to the door and pressed his ear to it. He couldn't hear a sound except his own breathing, but was able to sense the other boy's presence and felt relieved. Though he was aware that it was deep into the night, he knocked on the door.

"Weasley?"

Draco waited for a few seconds, but Ron didn't respond.

"Weasley?" He called out a little louder this time.

After a good three seconds, Draco heard a groan and a sulky '_Sleeping_' answered from the other side of the door.

Draco furrowed his brows at this and turned the door knob, which he found didn't turn.

"Weasley, open the door," he drawled.

Ron seemed to have decided to ignore this, so Draco took out his wand and tapped on the knob with _Alohomora_. The spell didn't work.

"Weasley, get your arse over here and open the door," Draco called out irritably.

There was another louder groan, and Draco heard the other boy say, "Alright, alright, I'm coming."

Draco could hear movement from inside the room, and after a click, the door opened. There, on the other side of the door, stood Ron, looking glum, and wearing a white tank top and pajama bottoms. His hair was mussed up, like he had gone straight to bed after a shower, not having bothered to dry his hair.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. He was pretty confident that he was the only one who found _this_ appealing.

"What do you want, you noisy, disturbing ferret?" spat out Ron.

Now, this was not appealing at all. In addition, Ron was standing squarely in the doorway, looking as though he had no intention of letting Draco inside the room.

"Where have you been, Weasel?" asked Draco, taking in the light muscle of Ron's upper arm as he said it.

"Where have I been? That's rich coming from someone who didn't come back until-" Ron looked at the clock on his table and said, "two in the morning".

"It's all part of the business. Had Blaise not told you to attend the party? He'd been waiting for you, to introduce you to some people. He was highly disappointed that you didn't show up, Weasley," said Draco, accusingly.

Well, Blaise hadn't been exactly waiting for him, but there wasn't any need to tell him that.

Ron looked suddenly abashed and said, "I, uh, thought it was just a plain party, so I thought I'd rather skip it."

Draco rolled his eyes. _A plain party?_There seemed to be no end to this boy's ignorance. They were talking about the huge after-party with the most influential people in the fashion industry. But he felt too weary to point it out just now.

"Whatever. Anyway, Weasley, I thought you'd wait up for me,"

"Why would I wait up for _you_?" Ron looked at him incredulously.

Draco pouted. "I told you we needed to talk." _And maybe more than talk._

Ron looked at Draco and sighed. "Look, we can talk in the morning, alright?"

"It _is_ morning, Weasley."

Draco turned on his heels and proceeded to the sitting room, gesturing with his finger for Ron to follow him.

"Malfoy, I've been sleeping! Can't you give it a rest?" Ron called out to Draco's back.

But when Draco turned to look at him and patted the backrest of a squashy sofa, he sighed and grudgingly came out of the room. He plopped into the sofa with a surly face and crossed his arms.

With a satisfied smile, Draco summoned a bottle of wine from the wine cooler and sat down next to Ron. When he laid an arm on the back of the sofa where Ron was sitting, he saw the other boy slightly stiffen.

"You shouldn't drink any more than you already have," Ron said, giving Draco a disapproving look.

"I'm not even drunk, Weasley," Draco retorted, but he wasn't sure if he sounded completely sober.

"So," Draco began, turning his head sideways to look at Ron. "Why are you acting like you're busy? What have you been up to?"

"I'm not up to anything," answered Ron quietly, but he wasn't looking Draco in the eye.

"Fine, then. What did Giuliano want with you?"

"What? Oh, him. He told me that he'd seen me in the _Quibbler_ and _Genio_, you know, the Italian catalogue I modeled for? He asked me if I was interested in advertising their new brand as well."

"Right. I've heard they decided to go with Muggle-type clothes next season. I think they probably sensed the Muggle-lover smell on you."

Ron stared crossly at Draco. "I don't have such smell."

"Yes you do. You stink, Weasley." With that, Draco leaned forwards into Ron's bare collarbone and sniffed.

Ron didn't smell of anything sophisticated, but of the kind of herbal soap they had at the hotel, and of a warm, sunny scent which had to be his. Draco felt intoxicated. But before he got carried away, his head was pushed back roughly against the sofa.

"Cut it." Ron was glaring at him.

Draco pushed back Ron's shoulder against the other side of the sofa and closed in on him again, close enough to feel the other boy's breath on his lips.

"So you're taking the job?"

After a pause, Ron answered, "I said I'll think about it."

"_Think about it?_ Are you mad? You _are_ aware that you're letting your chances slip away? What did you come here for in the first place?"

Then suddenly, Draco remembered the _other purpose_ that Blaise had brought him here.

"You haven't served your other purpose for being here, Weasley," whispered Draco and smirked.

"What other purpose?" Ron squinted his eyes, looking confused.

"Haven't you heard from Blaise? You're here, Weasley, to-"

_-to please me, to comfort me._

But the words didn't come out. They just trailed off. Draco heard Ron say somewhere in the distance, "Go to your bed already, Malfoy."

_Who is he to give orders?_

"Oh, shut up, it's your fault that I'm...sleepy, Weasel. After all, everything's your fault...you know that?" Draco mumbled, and rested his head on Ron's shoulder. He loved Ron's smell, or the smell of the hotel soap, he didn't mind which.

Draco thought he heard a sigh of resignation from the other boy, and then felt soft touches of fingers combing through his hair. It felt damn good. His eyes were now completely closed, and without having realized it, he was fast asleep, his head still resting on Ron's shoulder.

---

When Draco opened his eyes the next time, he was lying flat on the same sofa, alone. Morning light was pouring into the room, and it took a moment to remember why he was there. He sat himself up, when something slid off him onto the carpet. It was a blanket.

"Weasley?" He called out.

As he rubbed his eyes and stood up, he found a note on the table, beside the half-empty glass of wine. He picked up the note, which only read '_Sorry_' in scribbled letters.

_Sorry?_ What could it possibly mean? Surely, there had been times that Draco thought he could do with a simple 'thank you' or a 'sorry' from the other boy, but being left with just a piece of note saying 'sorry' was something else.

Crushing the note inside his hand, he saw that the door to Ron's bedroom was halfway open, revealing the empty room. It couldn't be a good sign.

Draco strode in the room, and when he opened the drawers and found them empty, which he had already guessed, he kicked them shut. He knocked down the chair he had sat in just yesterday, then tiredly sank into the bed Ron had used. He could smell the same scent he had smelled just hours ago when he nuzzled against Ron's neck. He closed his eyes to calm himself down, but his heavy headache wasn't helping.

This was not the kind of treatment he deserved. It was now laughable that he had been thinking of treating the redhead with his special guide to the ancient places in Milan. But this was not fair. He'd been feeling something between them, not enmity, nor feud, but something that made his heart flutter. But Ron just kept slipping away, and it always left Draco so frustrated.

When Draco opened his eyes again, he was determined to go back to London, or wherever Ron might have gone. He was not going to let Ron get away with this.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

PAIRING: Ron/Draco (Slash)

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Beta: A huge thank you to Pinkelephant. Without her help, I couldn't have completed this fic.

A/N: I've finally decided to wrap up this fic. I'm sorry for not having updated for over a year! I don't know if you'll like the ending, but this is what I had in mind from the beginning. Thanks to everyone who has continued to read this fic, and double thanks to everyone who has commented or favorited.

--

**Chapter 11**

Cutting his sojourn in Italy short was something Draco didn't often do. Every time he came to Italy on business, he would stay a couple of days, sometimes even a week or two, after the shows were over. Milan had some of the finest tailor shops in the world, and Draco always took the opportunity to renew his wardrobe.

This trip was the exception. Since he'd found out about Ron's arrival in Milan, he'd had a lot more on his mind than he usually did while abroad. Yesterday, he went so far as to plan a romantic date in his mind in which he would show the redhead all the historic sites in Milan, take him shopping to some of his favourite shops, and treat him to a delectable Italian cuisine (and even letting him taste some fine Italian dessert such as _Tiramisu_ or _Cannoli_), before finally retreating to _their_ room. Even the possibility of being paparazzied had slipped his mind completely.

However, being left behind alone in a hotel room in the morning gave Draco no more reason to stay longer in Milan. He couldn't bring himself to go shopping alone, and he had to find out where the other boy had gone.

So all of Draco's plans were left unaccomplished, and he was now standing in front of his agency building, back in Diagon Alley, in good old London. He didn't have any idea where to look for Ron. He had come back here to speak with his only possible source of information when it came to Ron Weasley. Blaise should have been back in his office this morning. Draco knew he always made sure to be easy to contact after important shows, not wanting to miss any new business opportunities.

Apparently, Draco's appearance took Blaise by surprise, for he saw the other boy raise his brows and glance at his watch. It was still eight in the morning.

"Draco, I thought you were still in Milan. You always stay there for an extra couple of days after the shows," said Blaise.

"I would have, if the circumstances allowed," said Draco, with a sour tone in his voice.

Blaise suddenly looked alarmed and said, "I was going to Floo you, as soon as I got rid of these owls."

He pointed at the owls with his chin. Some were perched on the windowsill, and others were flying around in the room, all waiting for Blaise to take the letters or leaflets off their legs. They were leaving feathers all over the room. Draco knew that it was always like this after Blaise came back from a couple of days away, and as it was right after the most important shows, there had to be a lot of business going on.

"Anyway, I thought you could fill me in with the background of Weasley's sudden resignation," said Blaise, somewhat uncomfortably.

Draco felt his blood drain from his face. Did he just hear the word 'resignation?'

"Weasley's _what_?"

Blaise looked up aghast at Draco. "I thought you had something to do with it."

Draco narrowed his eyes with his mouth slightly open, but once he recovered from the initial shock, he was quick on the uptake. Considering the redhead's previous behaviours, this was nothing sensational after all.

_It wasn't exactly like Weasley was putting his body and soul into modeling, was he? _Draco thought sarcastically.

"Unfortunately, I don't. I've come here because I thought you knew something about Weasley's scarper. All I know is I let him use one of my rooms, and he just decided to disappear without a word of gratitude."

Draco did not feel like telling Blaise about the small scribbled note saying 'Sorry' that had been left by the redhead.

Blaise shook his head incredulously and muttered something along the lines of _'that inconsiderate, poor excuse for a Gryffindor.'_ When he looked up, he looked a little tired. "Honestly, I've no idea where he's gone. He just sent me this note saying he wanted to quit modeling. I wouldn't have even found the note in this flock if Weasley's stupid tiny owl wasn't pecking at me, trying to get all the attention it could."

Blaise waved the piece of parchment he had been holding, which Draco took in a flash. He scanned Ron's hand-written note.

According to it, Ron couldn't come and discuss his resignation in person since he didn't have the time to do so. He said that he would pay his part for breaking off the contract, and that he would pay a visit to Blaise's office when his time allowed.

Draco felt himself flaring up inside, and had to try hard not to show it. Ron would pay a visit _when his time allowed_? What was that supposed to mean? What could possibly be taking up his time? As far as Draco knew, Ron had been wandering the streets of Diagon Alley doing nothing productive but gawking at shop windows of the _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ before he had been given a proper job since God knew when. And did he say he was going to pay for breaking the contract? That was rich coming from someone who couldn't even pay his monthly rent.

Draco didn't like a bit of what he had read, and crumpled the parchment, but not before memorizing the address scribbled at the bottom. Ron, apparently trying to seem businesslike, had left his address. Beside it was written, _'I may be away from time to time, so let your owl leave a message if you need to.'_

"You're not taking this shit seriously, are you?" Draco looked up at Blaise.

"I don't want to, but I might have to. I've witnessed models come and go, and when they go, they're gone in a flash." After a pause, Blaise continued, "You know, I thought he had more guts in him. Well, if he was leaving after all, the earlier, the better."

"And you're going to let him quit? Just like that?" Draco knew it was wrong to take it out on Blaise, but he couldn't help sounding a little offensive.

Blaise seemed to have noticed and said, "I'm sorry, Draco, that it didn't work out."

Draco couldn't tell whether he was talking about business or Draco's personal matter. He decided it didn't matter which.

"Why apologize? You're probably right, Blaise," said Draco, coolly, and left his agent's office without waiting for the other boy's response.

Draco was fuming inside. But even as he kicked open the door in frustration, he knew where to go next. He wasn't sure what to make of Ron's sudden quitting, but he knew he wouldn't rest until he found out the reason behind all of this. He thought at least he had the right to know. What did he mean by _'Sorry_?' What was he apologizing to Draco for? Why did it sound like it was the end of whatever that had been growing between himself and Ron?

He felt that if he let it go now, he wouldn't see Ron again. Then, this time, Ron would be out of his life for sure.

--

Draco found out, as he had expected, that Ron lived in a Muggle town, just outside of London. Draco had been in Muggle towns on several occasions, including those for the shooting. The most familiar to him was Spinners End, where he had once fled from Hogwarts with Snape, but the place he was now standing was nothing like that gloomy, forlorn place. Clean, white apartment buildings lined the streets along with trees and bushes, and Muggle vehicles were parked here and there.

Draco followed the numbering on the buildings and stopped in front of the flat he had been looking for. Ron was supposed to be living on the third floor. After making sure he wasn't being watched by anyone, Draco carefully took out his wand and tapped on the common front door lightly. It opened with ease, revealing a flight of stairs. After ascending those stairs, he came to Ron's door.

The whole building was quiet, almost silent, and Draco assumed that most of the inhabitants were probably out to work or somewhere. So when Draco rapped on the door, he wasn't really expecting Ron to answer the door. He was already contemplating what to do or where to go next when the door suddenly opened without warning. He almost yelped. To add to his surprise, it was not the redhead who was standing at the door, but his famous best friend.

_Great. Just the right person to make me feel even better_. Draco rolled his eyes.

It was the boy - now a grown man - whom Draco had opposed on so many things in the past. Harry Potter still had that unkempt hair, so unlike his own. As if to mirror Draco's shock, Harry looked astonished as well, and for a moment, they were both lost for words.

Harry was the first to break the silence.

"Malfoy," he said, with a touch of calmness in his voice that got on Draco's nerves.

Draco quickly recovered his voice. "What are _you _doing here?"

"As a matter of fact, I live here," said Harry, not seeming irritated by Draco's hostile gaze.

"You what? This is supposed to be Weasley's-" Draco stopped in mid-sentence. It suddenly dawned on him. _Fuck, they live together. _Draco should have known.

"Er...Ron's not home right now," said Harry, a little hesitantly.

Draco tried to retort, _'What makes you think I'm here for Weasley?' _but it suddenly became all too bothersome, and he decided to go right to the point. "Where is he then? Gone into hiding or something?"

"He hasn't gone into hiding or anything. He lives and sleeps here. It's just that he's been sort of busy these days."

"Weasley, busy, huh? Nice try, Potter. Trying to keep me away from your boyfriend, are you?"

Draco didn't think Harry swung that way, but when it came to Harry and Ron as a pair, he was never sure. They looked too initimate for Draco's liking. He had never liked their secretive way of talking or their brotherly physical contact.

Harry sighed. "He's nothing like that. I'm going to get married with Gin- his sister, in a couple of months."

"So your'e settling for his sister?" Draco said with a wry smile.

"I don't settle for anyone, Malfoy. I choose to be with her." Harry suddenly had strong determination in his eyes that made Draco falter, but quickly flicked his gaze and said, "Ron and I've been sharing this place since graduation. I, er, have seen the Quibbler, by the way."

Harry pointed somewhere behind him. Through the door Harry was holding, Draco could make out a magazine with the letters _The Quibbler_ on the cover laid on the table, beside an unfinished breakfast. Draco forgot that the latest Quibbler had come out just yesterday.

"I never thought you and Ron would fit in a scene like that. That was really-" Harry paused. He couldn't seem to find the right word. Then with some hesitance, he said, "Interesting."

Draco snorted. It was almost comical how Harry was trying to have a civil conversation with him.

However, Harry looked even more solemn as he said, "Malfoy, I wouldn't say this to you if I haven't seen the Quibbler, but Ron's been acting kind of strange lately."

Draco quirked an eyebrow to show he was listening.

Harry continued, "Earlier, he used to talk about you a lot, how he, er...disagreed with you on some points, but now he rarely talks about you anymore, and he told me he's quit modeling. But he doesn't seem happy and he's been a bit touchy lately."

Harry pointed at the Quibbler again. "So those pictures really came as a surprise to me. I haven't seen Ron like this in a long time. Is there...uh...something going on between you and Ron?"

"Why don't you keep your big nose out of it, Potter, and just worry about your own wedding plans?"

Harry looked slightly offended. "I'm just worried about him, is all."

"So are you going to tell me what he's been up to?" Draco shot a look at him.

"Sorry, Malfoy, but if he hasn't told you, neither can I," he answered.

Draco let out a dry laugh and turned on his heels, knowing that he wouldn't get any further information from the stubborn boy.

"Malfoy."

Draco heard Harry calling from behind. "Listen, Malfoy, I have to go out of the country for several weeks on Auror duty. As I said, Ron comes back here every day. You might want to come at a different time."

Draco was on the verge to say, _'I didn't ask for your schedule nor your advice,_' but swallowed the words. It was time for past grudges to be left behind in the past. He could tell that Harry was trying to encourage him in his own way. So as a response, Draco cocked his head to the side slightly, which could be taken as a nod, and descended the stairs.

--

Lying on his bed, Draco grabbed the latest Quibbler from the bedside table. He had bought the copy in Diagon Alley on his way from Ron's flat to his, enduring the curious look from the shop owner. He soon realized the reason of the man's impudent gaze. On the cover of the magazine were himself and Ron, sitting at an outside table of a Muggle cafe.

The photographer had chosen to press the shutter of the Muggle camera when Ron had looked at Draco with a smile on his face. Draco couldn't quite recall that moment, for he had never been smiled a genuine smile by the other boy, but concluded that it was probably taken when they were bickering. So the smile was most likely meant to be an insulting smile, but the editing made it look like the redhead was looking affectionately at Draco.

The last of the consecutive feature article on "Muggle Clothes" started with a page of Ron alone. It must have been taken before Draco had arrived at the Cafe. Ron, in his Muggle suit, wearing glasses, was sitting in front of an office desk, his fingers on some keyboard that was connected to something that looked like a metal box. Draco never knew that someone could wear glasses and still look good.

Draco recalled the scenes of the other pictures all too well. They even brought bittersweet feelings to him. If these pictures were to depict a Muggle life style, it couldn't be too bad to be a Muggle, could it? There was a picture of Ron lying on the bed next to Draco (who was holding a Muggle paperback novel), closing his eyes. Draco remembered that he couldn't dare look directly at the other boy's half-bare torso at that time.

In another scene, they were sitting on a settee, with Ron's head on Draco's shoulder, and Draco's arm around the other boy's waist. That had to be right before the kiss, when he had lectured to Ron on model professionalism. He could remember the soft tickling sensation of Ron's hair on his cheek and the scent of his cologne. There was another picture of the same scene, but they had chosen not to include the kissing. Come to think of it now, maybe Draco had gotten a little carried away.

Draco traced Ron's face with his fingers. His own face looked like he was yearning for the other boy. It looked a bit too obvious. But looking at all these still, Muggle pictures made him almost think that he wasn't the only one who felt that way. If the redhead had been acting in front of the camera, he had to be a natural in acting. If not, Harry could not be totally wrong in thinking that there was actually something going on between them, and that had probably persuaded him to tell Draco to come back at a different time. But was there really something between them? Draco couldn't tell.

--

The next time Draco called on Ron's flat, neither Ron nor Harry had answered the door. That had been in the afternoon after an ad shooting, so Draco made his next visit at a little later time than that, believing that the third time was the charm. When it wasn't, Draco stepped outside and let out a deep sigh, half from desperation and half from exhaustion. He looked around for any sign of the redhead. He saw nothing but a quiet street in the twilight. He then realized that he had not taken any time to explore the redhead's territory. He didn't have any other plans for the night, and even if he wasn't exactly interested in Muggle quarters, the early spring breeze was rather pleasant, helping soothe his restlessness.

Starting from Ron's flat, Draco noted that as he got nearer and nearer to the Muggle railroad station, an increasing number of pubs and other shops appeared on both sides of the street. Some of the shops attracted Draco's attention, for they seemed to be the kind of shops that Ron might like, with their delicious looking confectionery or sandwiches displayed in their windows.

Draco stopped in front of a cafe emitting a particularly good smell. He could see Muggle employees wearing clean aprons in blue and white stripes and moving busily around.

The scent drifting from the cafe reminded him how hungry he was. It was dinner time. It wouldn't hurt to eat a potato for one meal, would it? To balance out the calories he would be absorbing, he could always rely on Tofu salad for the next couple of meals.

It wasn't until after stepping inside and deciding to choose a menu that Draco realized he didn't have, never had, Muggle money with him. He tutted and turned to go out the same door when a flash of red caught his eye. It was none other than Ron Weasley.

Ron was seated at one of the tables at the back of the cafe, with a large potato in front of him. He was bringing a particularly large chunk of that potato with its beans and melting cheese to his mouth with a fork that seemed too small for the load, while his left hand closed around a bottle of pink liquid.

Draco quietly walked in front of Ron, who still seemed unaware of the blond's appearance.

"Enjoying your meal, Weasley?"

Ron froze, his fork stopping in mid-air. He then looked up, wide-eyed. Seeing Draco's face, a scowl quickly formed on the redhead's face.

"Malfoy? How did you- what are you doing here?"

Apparently, _'I just happened to be here'_ wouldn't work, so Draco decided to take a different approach. "You're easy to track, Weasley."

Ron made a face. "What are you tracking me for? What do you want with me?"

Draco pulled a chair across from the other boy and seated himself. He felt his blood starting to rapidly boil inside him. While he was able to keep his outer composure, his voice came out dangerously low as he leaned forward across the table towards the other boy.

"_What do I want with you?_ Is that all you can say? You just suddenly decide to abandon everything and flee to God knows where, and you ask me what I want with you? Don't you think you owe me an explanation? To start with, where have you been gadding all this time?"

Ron put down his fork and averted meeting Draco's eyes. "I was going to- to talk to Zabini, once things got settled."

Draco was not at all satisfied with the response, and was about to ask what he meant by 'things,' but he saw the other boy unconsciously playing with his potato using his fork with a slight pout on his face. Draco couldn't help but find this gesture arousing. At the same time, Ron almost looked like a boy about to be punished for his misdeed, and Draco suddenly felt a tiny bit of guilt for ruining the boy's pleasure of eating one of his possibly favourite foods.

After a good five seconds of awkward silence, Draco asked, "Good, is it? Those Muggle food? Did you know those potatoes you're eating are the king of carbohydrates, Weasley?"

Ron flickered his eyebrow in a slightly puzzled way, but a wicked grin quickly spread across his face, replacing the sulky look he had.

"They're delectable, Malfoy. This-" he pointed at the potato- "is a combination of carbohydrate, protein, and fat. It's more than you can dream of. Want a bite?"

The redhead had to be saying this as a sarcastic, teasing comment, knowing that Draco was abstaining from excess intake of all these nutrients.

_So why not accept his provocation?_

"I don't mind a bite." With that said, Draco pulled Ron's wrist holding the fork toward him. Ignoring the _'Hey!'_ from the other boy, Draco took what remained on the fork into his mouth.

"Not bad... for a Muggle food, that is," said Draco, chewing. Truth be told, it was delicious. It was almost a miracle that Muggles could invent such cuisine.

To Draco's surprise, Ron had turned slightly red, looking miffed.

"You don't have to try to like it," he spat out, and roughly pulled the plate closer towards him and started attacking the remainder of the potato.

Maybe because Ron's eating manner wasn't passable, or maybe because the two were eye-catching, but in either case, Draco noticed a Muggle woman at the next table eyeing them suspiciously. When Draco shot a glare in her direction, she quickly averted her eyes.

It only took about five bites for Ron to finish his beloved potato. After wiping his mouth with a napkin, Ron stood up unceremoniously, left the table, and walked out the door. Draco swore inwardly and stood up to follow. He was afraid that Ron might Apparate once he was outside, but when Draco came out the door, he found the redhead leaning against the cafe's wall, hands in his pockets, obviously waiting for him. Ron was looking at him directly with those blue eyes that always gave him the chills.

"We can't talk in front of that Muggle, can we? Some of their lot can be really nosy, just like ours, especially when they see or hear things less ordinary."

With that, Ron turned on his heels and started walking up the sidewalk. Draco followed. He was rather intrigued that Ron had obtained insight into Muggle nature, or whatever it was. He also noted that Ron wasn't wearing the cocky clothes from the catalog shoot anymore, but an old pair of jeans and a denim jacket over a plain t-shirt, and still carrying that ragged sack, which, all in all, suited his outfit. But what struck him the most was that Ron was practically inviting Draco into his place.

Following the other boy to his flat and ascending the stairs, Draco admired the curve of the boy's bum and every crease of his jeans. He hated to admit how such cheap, plain clothing could look so good on someone. Even the densest people would notice that.

When they arrived at the flat, Ron opened the door and made room for Draco to enter.

The last time Draco was here, he could only see a small portion of the room. So this is how it looked. Though the sitting room was tiny, with the minimal amount of furniture, it did look functional. There were mismatched chairs and a sofa, some books and papers in disarray, but the place otherwise seemed fairly clean and tolerable.

On the mantelpiece were some framed pictures taken on their graduation day from Hogwarts. Not only Gryffindors but also Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were smiling at the camera, arm in arm, shoulder on shoulder. There was also a picture of Ron's family, with a tall redheaded groom and a young beautiful bride whom he recognized as Fleur Delacour in the middle. So far, Draco had not taken any part of this. But then he found a fresh issue of the Quibbler on top of randomly stacked books on the side. He recognized his own face and Ron's on the cover, and it somehow made him feel content.

"I share this place with Harry." Ron's voice broke him from his stupor.

"I know," he answered, nonchalantly.

Ron turned his head switfly. "You _know_?"

Draco shrugged. Ron looked questioningly at him.

"You saw Harry?" he said, lowering his brows.

Draco shrugged again and smirked. "Look who's jealous."

Ron's ears turned a shade of red. "I am _NOT_."

"Don't bark, Weasley."

To think it was over Potter he was trying to tease the redhead made him nauseous, but still, it was getting intriguing. Ron actually looked a bit jealous, which let Draco's hopes up.

"Don't fret, Weasley," he chuckled. "I would never lay one finger on that git. He answered the door when I came here two days ago. That's when you were out, playing busy."

"I _was_ busy," said Ron, disgruntled.

"So tell me then, Weasley, what have you been occupied with?"

"You don't give up, do you?" said Ron, tearing out his hair and half sitting on the windowsill.

"Weasley, it just occurred to me," Draco said, ignoring the other boy's comment. "Aren't you offering me a seat or anything to drink?"

Ron looked up at Draco. "No, I want this talk to be over with quickly."

Draco sighed and seated himself on the leather sofa that looked the most comfortable, and crossed one leg over the other.

"Let's hear your excuse for letting us down, then," he said, looking at Ron accusingly.

Ron looked abashed and said, "I didn't mean to, you know, let you down."

"But you obviously did let not only Blaise, but me down. Enlighten me so I can understand, Weasley. What was that note you left in the hotel supposed to mean?"

Ron was now staring hard at his shoes as he said, "Well, for not having been able to tell you earlier that I had to leave...not just the hotel, but the agency as well."

Draco's irritation was starting to mount with Ron's lack of straightforwardness.

"A simple word as 'sorry' doesn't imply all those meanings, Weasley. Did you seriously think that would cover up for your discourteous behaviour?" Draco said in a disapproving tone.

"I didn't have the time to explain at that time, because they called upon me at such short notice," said Ron.

"_They?_" Draco looked up questioningly.

Ron looked as if he regretted what he had just said, but he answered nontheless. "The recruiters at the Appleby Arrows. They hired me as a Keeper to fill in for their vacated post after Stanwood got dismissed for potion problems."

Draco was taken aback by this sudden news. It took a moment for him to register what he had heard.

"You're what? You're playing _Quidditich_?"

He looked incredulously at Ron, vaguely aware that he was on his feet.

Ron looked away, his ears quickly turning red. As he fixed his gaze somewhere outside the window, he spoke, "I never could give up playing for a professional team. I've been always seeking a chance and trying out whenever new players were recruited."

Draco couldn't believe it. He was more stunned by the fact that Ron had something completely else than modeling in mind than by his supposed Keeper skills matching professional level.

"I don't believe this. Why did you even accept Blaise's offer in the first place?" said Draco, drawing closer to Ron.

Ron looked up startled at Draco, as if having sensed his anger.

"I, uh...I needed to earn a living...and a decent broom. My Cleansweep wasn't bad, but it just wasn't good enough when you wanted to try out for a professional team," said Ron.

Draco felt heat rising up his cheeks. All along, the redhead hadn't taken any part of modeling seriously. It felt like a betrayal.

"I knew it. You never gave a damn about modeling," spat out Draco.

"That's not true," said Ron, responding hotly. "I admit I wasn't taking it seriously at first, but then I realized it wasn't something you could do half-heartedly."

When Draco didn't say anything, Ron continued, "I learned that from you. I saw you putting all your soul into it. Your professionalism made me uncomfortable, Malfoy. I knew modeling wasn't my thing, and I could never be like you."

Draco let out a dry laugh and said, "So I see modeling didn't come to you. I hope Quidditch does."

Ron's face turned dangerously red. "You don't understand."

"What exactly do I not understand?" said Draco, coldly.

Ron looked hesitant, but after shifting his position, he started talking. "After graduating Hogwarts, I failed the Auror admission test. After everything I've been through, helping Harry on his mission and battling with the Death Eaters, they tell me I don't qualify. Of course, they took Harry in with widely open arms, and I, being his best friend and all, was offered another position at the Ministry. But you'd think I'd take that?"

Draco just shrugged in response, and the redhead went on, "So I didn't have a steady job. For two years, I was sort of lost. But I realized at some point that Quidditch was the thing I wanted to do the most. It keeps me going, you know. But it wasn't easy to win a position at a professional team. I'd been practicing, but it wasn't working out for me. That's when Zabini found me. I wasn't really picky about my jobs because my savings were drying up."

_Like you had any_, Draco wanted to say just to irritate the other boy, and as if Ron had read his mind, he said, "I did have a small amount. I had part-time jobs at some shops. Anyway, even after I started modeling, I kept practicing. Sabina - she's the German model whom I worked with, had a boyfriend who worked for the Quidditch committee, and she let me know that the Arrows were unofficially looking for a Keeper. I tried out, and they hired me."

Draco chewed the inside of his cheek. So that just about explained everything, including what Ron had been doing in Milan, disappearing now and then, and after he was back. It also happened that the German girl wasn't involved with Ron in the sense that Draco didn't want to think about.

"The best I could do was leave early before further time and money were wasted on me," added Ron.

After a long silent moment, Draco opened his mouth.

"While I don't approve of your selfish ways, I got your point," said Draco, and Ron actually looked relieved.

When Ron seemed off-guard, Draco took another step forward towards him and said, "But I have another question. Why is it that you're avoiding me?"

Draco saw the other boy flush.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about," he said, refusing to meet Draco's eyes again.

"You'd locked your door at nights, and you'd been gone in the mornings when you could've woken me up." After a deliberate pause, Draco continued, "Like now, you don't look me in the eyes any longer than two seconds. Do you still say that you're not avoiding me?"

Ron pushed back his hair and opened his mouth as if to protest, but instead, let out a long sigh. He then looked at Draco reproachfully and started, "I've noticed that you've changed your tactics, Malfoy, but you're still your Slytherin self. Back then at Hogwarts, you would insult me about my family and our financial status. Now, you tease me in your flirtatious, charming way and see how I react, and you're clearly enjoying it."

Draco was dumbfounded at these words. What exactly was the redhead trying to say, and why was he turning red like that?

"What are you talking about? You're not being coherent, Weasley," he managed to say.

Ron looked in his way and said, "You distract me, Malfoy. You keep teasing me with all those flirty glances and kisses when I need to be concentrating on my Keeper skills. Well, teasing me and telling me it was all a joke just to see me devastated might be your plan, but I won't go for that."

Draco couldn't believe his own ears. What did he just say? Draco was the one being teased and flirted with, and not the other way around. But despite the accusatory look he was receiving from the other boy, Draco felt his heart flutter. He didn't want to let his hopes get too high only to be disappointed, but he couldn't help saying, "Why, Weasley, you almost sound like you have a thing for me."

With that, Ron's face turned even more red, if that was possible. "Shut up," he mumbled. But of course, Draco wasn't going to.

"Wait a minute, I didn't know you went for blokes," said Draco. _Now, that was a lame thing to say._

"I don't!" said Ron, with a vengeance.

_So he didn't go for blokes after all._ But before Draco let disappointment sink in, Ron started talking again. "I don't...usually, that is. Somehow, I find myself finding you attractive...in your own way."

"What do you mean _'in my own way?'_ I'm attractive in anyone's eyes," responded Draco defensively, but right now, he didn't really care what other people thought about him. What mattered was that Ron actually did think him attractive.

"Let me tell you, Weasley," he said, and closed what space was left between them. Ron tried to draw back involuntarily, but his head bumped against the window behind him. Before Ron could make any further movement, Draco placed a hand behind the other boy's neck and crushed his lips to his. Ron let out a 'urmph,' and tried to push Draco away. Draco broke off the kiss momentarily and said in a hoarse whisper, "I don't kiss or flirt with random people. I only flirt when I really mean it, Weasley, so take that in mind," and resumed the kiss.

At first, there was no reaction from Ron, but as Draco kept on kissing softly and gently, he felt the other boy relax under his lips and start kissing back. Taking it as a good sign, Draco started kissing him fervently, and slipped his tongue in the other boy's mouth. Ron let out a soft moan. His mouth was warm and wet, and Draco was delighted to feel the other boy's tongue pressed against his own. He had wanted this so much.

They stayed like that for a while, kissing each other. When they finally parted their lips, Draco cupped Ron's cheeks with both hands and pressed their foreheads together.

"I didn't think you supported the Arrows, Weasley."

"Well, they weren't my first choice, but they are a good team to start with," said Ron, with dazed eyes.

"I suppose so," said Draco. Then, looking into the other boy's eyes thoughtfully, he said, "There's another thing I want to tell you."

Ron quirked an eyebrow and said, "What now?"

"Considering you've disappointed me and Blaise, it's not really something I should be glad about, but I am... that you've quit modeling."

"Was I that hideous?" asked Ron, gingerly.

"Not really," smirked Draco. "It's more that I don't fancy sharing your half-naked body with the rest of the world."

Ron let out a small laugh, and Draco sealed his mouth again. Ron was more than eager to comply.

"You know what?" Draco said between kisses, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Potter's not coming back for at least a fortnight."

The End


End file.
